


Frogs and Snails

by Menirva



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Consensual Kink, D/s, Multi, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menirva/pseuds/Menirva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barsad was not a lonely man, despite keeping mostly to himself. But when he came to discover an unfamiliar need within him, he found its fulfillment bred unexpected relationships as well as peace of mind and a penchant for knee pads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Barsad's fingers clacked restlessly against his laptop keys, erasing and rewriting in what felt like an endless loop. It was an easy thing, a very simple task, to fill out the form. It would be nothing lost if there was no interest. Things would simply remain as they were now. But that was not what he feared. No, the spark of anxiousness in his belly only proved that what he feared was that there might be an interest, after all.

So he stared at the once again blank document on his screen, the glow of it reflected in the blue of his eyes. He had been sitting at his desk so long that they were beginning to ache. He no longer got the splitting headaches that he had during his time in the service, from those long hours of focusing down the barrel of his scope, but sometimes they still snuck up on him, developed into migraines when he spent too much time staring at his computer. It was a sign to get up, to stretch his legs out by moving around his small apartment, to go over to the fridge and pour himself something to drink.

He sat there longer still, instead, scrubbing his hands over his face, glancing towards the window and seeing how the light was peeking through the blinds, a pinkish hue indicating that the sun was finally coming out. He had already been up for two hours. Old habits never left him, and his time in combat had always meant he was up before dawn. He had only meant to check his computer for a moment before he was up to go for a run, to face the day. Instead, he had been sitting there since waking.

Barsad could not remember exactly how it was that he had discovered his... curiosity. It had been a little over a year ago, perhaps. He had been feeling empty, listless. His job giving lectures and weapons training at the firing range was, frankly, boring, nothing like the action he had seen, the constant bubbling tension he had been used to feeling under his skin at all hours. Now he felt it at the worst times, when there was no danger at all but his body could simply not listen to such a notion. It cycled through him like everything else, left him irritated, snappish, and exhausted at times when sleep would not come no matter how much he exercised, trained, and ground his body down to his bones.

It had left him turning to his laptop more often than he would like to admit, finding a video or two to distract himself, to rub one out and to try to exhaust his body further so that he could finally just rest, slip into something dreamless and sweet. He was admittedly rather simple in his tastes; a pretty woman, looking pleasured and breathless, usually suited his needs just fine, so it was strange how he had managed to stumble onto it, at all.

He had though, had been settled back onto his bed with his hand around his cock as he watched 'trainer' Miranda Tate handle her pup. It had been confusing at first, to see the huge man, bare and rippling with muscle, down on his hands and knees in front of her slender, graceful frame. His mouth had been covered in what Barsad would later learn was his 'muzzle', and his head was pressed against Ms. Tate's delicate feet, a soft, wanting whine leaving him.

“ _Good puppy.”_

He had not been able to look away. He had watched the video, enthralled as 'Bane', Ms. Tate's faithful pup, was led around the room, how she pet through the closely shorn fuzz on his head, down his back as he lay down at her feet, content. Even with how his muzzle covered the man’s face, Barsad could see what was written all over it.

Peacefulness.

He signed up for their website and thanked any god that would listen that it was legitimate and cared about its subscribers’ privacy. It took several more days of watching older videos with them, of looking on the forums curiously, before he even found the proper terminology, 'puppy play', something he felt a bit red over typing into his search engine, but he had already found himself to be plummeting down the rabbit hole, so to speak.

The entire thing should have been ridiculous, acting like an animal. Submitting to someone else like a dog should have been humiliating... Only it never seemed that way when he watched them. Ms. Tate was never demeaning, never cruel even when she teased and played with her puppy. Their relationship felt, warm, tender when Ms. Tate would cup her cheeks over Bane's mask and coo that he was being such a good boy for her, when he would sprawl across her lap, far too big to fit in it entirely no matter how determined he was to do so.

It wasn't even about the sex. That sad fact almost made the entire thing more embarrassing. Not that it wasn't wonderful to watch, how Ms. Tate’s thighs would block off Bane's face when the muzzle was removed and he would eagerly lap at her pussy, how she would have him on all fours, playing with his cock until he was rutting into her hands with a low rumble of pleasure. He had gotten hooked on certain videos when he was trying to wear himself out, there was no doubt about that, but at the same time there were other videos that he played when he wanted to relax himself, watching Ms. Tate pet and pamper her puppy as he finally found himself able to sleep.

It made him question of lot of things about himself, if this strange fascination was something that stemmed from his discharge or if it was something that had lurked in him all along. Was there something wrong with him? It was not as if there were many he could ask about it. He had few friends in the city he had settled down in. Purposefully, perhaps, as he found he cared little for most people. There were the forums, but he did not know how to pose his questions into words, found himself starting to create a post only to delete it. In truth, he had instead sent Ms. Tate an email, thanking her, telling her how much he enjoyed watching her. He had hit send before he could stop himself.

A rare warmth had tightened in his chest when he got more than an automated response back, but instead a polite, gracious thank you for what she called a 'flattering and articulate letter'. He’d kept it, had let that be the end of it and decided to explore on his own.

It had been hard, though. He’d felt stupid, ridiculous when he had locked his apartment door, undressed and tried to settle himself, to slip into the 'head space' that he'd read about, wanting it, the carefree delight of living in the moment, of not overanalyzing every little thing in his life, of not dreading the future and trying to forget the past. It had been every bit as hard as he’d imagined it would be. It had taken a long time to be able to settle himself, to let go. It had seemed impossible the first few times he'd worked up the courage to try, and he had found himself far more frustrated after the experience.

He’d finally managed it, though, after some careful meditation, after setting up a pile of blankets in the corner and settling on them. It had been the video that finally tipped him over. He had felt almost dirty putting it on, not a sexual scene between Ms. Tate and Bane, but a calming one full of praise and commands from her to him. He had stripped down bare and curled up listening to them, breathing slowly, evenly, and eventually he had finally been able to slide into it, or perhaps he had slid into nothing and instead he stripped off all of the heaviness he usually wore around himself.

It had felt wonderful to romp around on the carpet, to dig around in the laundry, munch up the cereal in the food bowl he had set out (a purchase from the pet store that had made a flush creep across his neck), before he happily curled up for a well-earned nap. He had woken himself up and felt... good, strange but good, after. He could admit to himself that he had liked it. There had been something off, though. As a pup he was playful, happy, but it had taken Barsad some time in his 'human' frame of mind to realize that he was lonely. Barsad hadn’t felt lonely, so it was strange to him that his 'pup' side would, but he supposed most dogs were used to having masters, trainers, and other pups to romp with. Still there had been nothing to be done about it.

Until he had seen the advertisement on their website.

' _We are currently accepting applications to any and all strays interested in indulging in some playtime.'_

That was it, just that and a link leading to a PDF of the application process, one's name, age, their availability, their reason for applying. It felt like a screening for a job application, formal, efficient, something to weed out those who were not truly interested.

Barsad was so interested that the sudden idea of getting to have 'play time' made him nearly dizzy. He recognized that Ms. Tate was everything that he could ever hope for in a 'trainer' while he was in his head space, firm, doting, willing to play, but he couldn't seem to stop erasing the words he had written, at one point deleting the PDF entirely only to re-download it. There was a war waging inside his chest, making the tension in his neck and head ache. He couldn't just give up control like that. If she was even interested in him, it would be a nearly two hour drive to meet with her. The list of reasons why the idea was simply not feasible kept piling up in his mind.

He started filling it out again.

' _Barsad Niyazov, Age: 33, Availability: weekends, weeknights, Reason for Applying: it seems interesti—'_

Interesting. He sighed and erased again.

_'I wanted to learn more about it and thought this would be a good way to—”_

He erased that one just as quickly. It was putting it into words, trying to express what he was feeling inside. He had never been good at that. Perhaps he was actually trying to set himself up for failure. He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck, closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, blowing it out slowly.

' _Because I feel like I need this to make the world feel right in my head.”_

He tapped send before he could stop himself and went to work.

It would be a lie to say that the whole thing hadn't stayed with him the entire shift. He purposefully avoided going home, unsure which would be worse, a response in his inbox or nothing at all. It felt good to go exercise, work himself up until he was dripping with sweat and nearly crawling back to his small apartment. He barely managed a shower and told himself that he was too tired to go onto his laptop to check his email, that it would simply have to wait until morning, or perhaps next week. It was not as though he received emails often. He could wait a week before checking it again.

At 2:47 am, Barsad was lifting up his laptop lid with no small amount of trepidation. It was only because he could not sleep. He would simply check his email to see that it was indeed empty and then he would finally be able to rest, perhaps.

_“Interview time: Next Saturday, 3:30 pm.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Barsad swallowed, reading the concise email again. It was a feasible time slot, and it was not as though he was being given the option to reschedule. He was expected to be there. It was not as though he had plans. The idea settled like a lump in his stomach, that this could actually happen.

But he didn't try to cancel the appointment. He only spent the rest of the week in an off mood, convincing himself that he should not get excited, that this was just a screening process, that there were surely others that would be picked over him, those with experience, better looks, and better temperaments, ones that would make perfectly obedient pups with no trouble at all.

Saturday, though, he was up before the sun again, neatly making his bed with the hospital corners that he could not train out of himself. Standing with his legs locked too tightly as he drank his coffee, his hands felt like the only steady thing in him as he dressed in carefully pressed black trousers and a suit jacket, his favorite red dress shirt underneath it, his shoes shined and polished. If this was an interview, he would treat it like one, formal, none of the beat up boots and torn clothing he usually went out in.

It was too late to cancel. That was what he told himself as he quietly gassed up his truck, as he gripped the steering wheel so hard that 20 minutes into his drive he realized that his hands were starting to ache, when he got to the address listed and considered turning back around and taking the long trip back home.

The outside of the house was small and lovely with lush overhanging planters brimming with blue flowers, and a wrought iron fence opened to be welcoming. He wondered if it was open all of the time or if it was just for him as he slowly shut the truck door, made his way down the small cobblestone path and onto the front porch. The three clipped wraps of his knuckles on the door echoed against the wood and he stood straight, unable to convince his body to relax, that this was only an interview, not a military inspection.

There was no creak to the door when it slid open, just Ms. Tate, there standing in front of him. It was surreal to see her in person. She had become a soothing voice in his life, a presence he used to stable himself, something he never thought would ever be standing before him. He had a couple of inches on her, but her presence still felt overwhelming as she took him in slowly, seeming to note each detail of his presence before she spoke.

“Barsad,” Ms. Tate nodded to him. She seemed pleased to see him, and that let him breathe a little. “You are precisely on time, how admirable. Come in.”

His feet crossed the threshold and he could not help but glance around inside. Everything was simple, elegant, tidy. The walls were a familiar color, the carpeting the same. This was where she filmed her videos. It had never occurred to him that they might be done in her own home, though it only made sense now that he realized it.

“You are dressed so formally, there was no need.”

Barsad took in her own clothing, an elegantly simple gray sweater and matching pants, her hair braided neatly, bare feet with blue tipped toenails sinking into the thick carpeting. He somehow still felt under dressed for her.

“I wasn't sure what to wear,” he admitted quietly.

“Red is usually an aggressive color,” she remarked, taking in his shirt, “but it doesn't feel like it on you. Am I mistaken?”

“It's my favorite color,” was all Barsad responded with, not sure what to say to that.

“You're nervous,” her lips curved just slightly. “You hide it well.”

Not well enough, apparently. He cleared his throat quietly and she paused while they were in the kitchen.

“Your letter was lovely.”

He stopped, resting his hands on the counter top while she went to the stove, turning off a softly whistling tea kettle with the flick of her wrist. When she glanced over at him, seeing his surprise, a soft throaty laugh left her.

“It was from the same email address,” she explained. “It is rare to receive such a genuine letter. Most men simply send me messages saying how much they would like to fuck me or my pup.”

Barsad didn't know what to say, feeling a flash of embarrassment that he had not ever thought that she might make the connection. He shifted from one foot to the other as she poured out tea into cups. It caught his eye.

“Why three cups?”

“Because I am not the only one who must approve of you. Carry it for me.”

He wasn't going to snap to obey, but it would be rude to not carry it after she had made tea for them. He crossed through into the living room, his fingers gripping tighter to the small tray when he saw the large form seated calmly on a loveseat, a book placed in his lap as a thick finger traced over the pages.

Bane. He had not seen the man's face, had never in fact seen him off of his knees, but it simply had to be him. The soft gray eyes watching him now matched the ones he'd seen behind his muzzle, content as Talia tended to him. There was a distinct scar running across his lips, something easily distinguished in public viewing; it made sense for him to cover it if he wished to keep his life in the business separate from his social life. His powerful body couldn't exactly be hidden under the simple black shirt and cargo pants he was wearing, however. If anything, it showed how much power was being barely contained by the material.

“He is overdressed,” Bane said, his voice thick and strange, intriguing. Its lilt was unplaceable to him, but Barsad could not help noticing the curve of his wide lips as he teased him, how the old, silvery scar twisted with them.

“I wasn't informed of the proper attire,” he returned dryly, “and I do not own a collar.” This felt easier, to tease this man. Merely looking at Ms. Tate sent a nervous flutter in his chest, but this was what he supposed he could refer to as 'a fellow pup'. He had seen him whimpering, yipping quietly as he spilled into Ms. Tate's hand, panting as he was exhausted and held against her. He didn't feel above him by any means, but he felt comfortable.

Bane chuckled and set his book on the nearby table stand. His hand was rough to the touch when Barsad shook it, warm, though; it felt like it encompassed his own securely.

“Have you done anything like this before?” Bane asked as Barsad sat down across from him in an armchair and cradled the steaming cup that was held out for him in his hands, thin delicate porcelain, blue flowers winding along the creamy white. He followed the trail of them with his thumb as he answered.

“I have not. Do I need to be experienced?” It would be understandable. Ms. Tate would more easily know what she was getting into, but the announcement had mentioned nothing about it.

“Not at all,” Ms. Tate assured him as she sipped from her own cup. “We are all inexperienced at one point, and from your reason given, we thought that you may be new.”

“I have... researched,” Barsad added after a moment. “I have explored it on my own, but I'm sure it's very different.”

“An eager, fresh student then,” Bane remarked, and Barsad shook his head. He was a beginner at this, but he was nothing fresh or new. He felt older than his years, worn down. He would not let them contemplate picking him for the wrong reasons and then regret their choice.

“Would you like me to tell you about myself, my life?”

“There is little need, Barsad. We have done our own research on you.”

The muscles in his shoulders tightened. Of course they would. Who would not, with access to the internet these days? He still did not like it, though.

“You have been spying on me.”

“And have you not done the same to us?” Bane asked, a pale eyebrow arched in question.

“No... putting Bane reveals very little into a search engine,” he admitted sourly, “and Ms. Tate only brings up her own website.”

“Miranda Tate. It is a false name, used for business purposes,” Talia affirmed. “You may call me Talia.”

“Talia,” he sounded the name out in his mouth and found it suited her better. “And what did you find out about me?”

“You were a sniper. You received an honorable discharge... barely. You were perceived as very insubordinate by your peers and ranking leaders,” Bane said, and Barsad's lips twisted into a grimace. He wanted to set their tea down and leave. This had been a foolish mistake.

“Then I am sure to make an ornery pup. I am sure you have other candidates that will not waste your time.” He moved to set his cup on the table and began to rise, to forget this terrible mistake. He froze when Bane's hand curled around his wrist. His own fist coiled and his body tensed up, ready to strike back. Only Bane's thumb soothing over the bone of his wrist calmed him enough to convince his body this was not an attack.

“You are the only person who responded to our call that we extended an invitation into our home,” Talia said, startling him, making him turn towards her more, his sudden tension forgotten and replaced with bewilderment.

“Why? There must have been many others.”

Talia nodded her head slightly to confirm it. “Because, Barsad Niyazov, age 33, availability weeknights and weekends, you were the only one whose reason given felt similar to our own.”

“To make the world feel right in your head,” Bane reminded him. His hand hadn't left his wrist, and now it just squeezed gently. “I was in the military once, as well.”

Barsad lowered himself back down from his half-stand warily. He could believe it. Bane's body seemed to be one won through discipline, rough training.

“Why do you do this?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and he wished he could grab up the words and shove them back down into his chest.

“Why do you want it, Barsad?” Bane asked evenly, and the way they were both looking at him me him feel trapped. He had been floating through his life since his discharge, feeling as if he was a ghost, unnoticed by those around him. It was how he wanted it. He was not lonely. But this, they saw him, all of him, because he had taken the risk and made himself vulnerable to them. “It is not hard to look at you and see that you are a self-sufficient man, that you make your own way in this world. What has made you feel this need inside of yourself?”

“I don't—I don't know,” he bit out roughly. “I do not know where it came from. I only know that it is there and that watching you, your size, how strong you are and yet still with her, that helped me to realize that it was ok.”

“To submit, to let go and let yourself have this,” Bane clarified, and Barsad tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment, startled when warm fingers scratched slightly through the scruff of his beard, making him blink and sink back into his chair more to pull back from the surprisingly tender touch.

“We will need to discuss the logistics,” Talia said. “A safe word, your comfort levels. They might change over time.”

“This is a yes, then?” he asked, unable to contain his surprise over it, or the flood of uncertainty that shot through him suddenly. “You want me to do this with you?”

“Not with me. With Bane.”

“But Bane—”

“…Has been interested in taking on his own pup for some time now,” Talia said, and the familiar look that passed between the pair spoke volumes. “I have wished for him to be able to explore it, as well, but it is simply not in me to be a pup.” She chuckled slightly. “I tried... my attempt was laughable, and we quickly decided that it would be in our best interests to bring in someone else, someone new. If you are not interested...”

He hesitated. This was not at all what he had expected, and he truly did not know how he felt about it, the idea of putting his trust into a male trainer. Barsad would have thought he would be shaking his head no instantly. It was not that he was repressed, bigoted, but he had spent many years in the military, and his body, though strong, muscled, was admittedly slighter in frame than most in his regiment, and it had led to many... distasteful accusations, things that he adamantly denied, and even though it was long over, the thought of those things being right, after all... He found himself recoiling at the thought.

But where else would he get this chance? For even with all of the anxiousness filling his body, he recognized that this was opportunity, and that it might never be repeated again.

“I am still interested.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Good,” Talia seemed satisfied with the entire exchange, “then we have homework for you.”

She had not been joking about homework. She had an entire folder for him to fill out after he finished his tea.

“You can take it home with you, if you would rather do it alone,” she offered.

“If it makes no difference, I would rather do it here. It's a long drive.”

“How long?” Bane asked, holding out a pen for him.

“I live almost two hours  from here, in Gotham,” Barsad answered honestly, and Talia shook her head.

“You must have driven all morning! You should have said something. Bane can't have you on weeknights, then, only weekends.”

Barsad tried to protest that. If this was something he liked, he would be willing to make the drive daily, but they didn’t let him argue that, only told him to start working on the paperwork then while they arranged for dinner.

“Why do you need my medical records?” He glanced up at Bane, realizing he was watching him while Talia had gone out to place a phone call. “I can understand certain things, but why allergies?”

“Say I were to feed you something while you were in your head space. What if you were allergic to it?”

“I would take it anyway, like a pup would happily eat chocolate,” he said, nodding in understanding. “I'm allergic to peanuts.”

“Ah, see, peanut butter is a common treat for a pup. That is why we ask for them, to keep you safe. Other things, like clean tests, are things we ask for to keep everyone safe.”

“In case you want to fuck me... Do you want to fuck me?” he asked warily.

“I would rather get to know you first, then decide, and I would only wish to if you wanted it, as well. Page twelve.”

He flipped over to page twelve and swallowed slightly at the long list of check boxes—Yes, No, Yes only as a pup, No for both, Maybe over time—ranging from mild and moving onward; petting, cuddling, pet names, mild discipline, i.e. swatting, scolding, etc... He checked most of them 'Yes as a pup', and a few 'yes' period until they shifted to sexual—blow jobs, penetration—most checked 'maybe'.

“What if it's never yes?”

“Then it is never a yes.” Bane tapped his finger on a part of the list. “There are many fun things to do without it ever becoming sexual.”

A small smile tugged at his mouth when he saw the checklist of things he would like to do as a pup during playtime; play ball, chase butterflies, tug of war, bath times, walks, suppers. When Bane's hand went into his hair gently, he closed his eyes, fingertips slowly brushing against his scalp. It felt nice. They stayed while he filled out everything, and during dinner Barsad felt his hands more than once, on his arm, touching his knee slightly, his wrist, his shoulder. He was no fool. He was being handled, touched so he could adjust to it.

It was working. He felt... welcomed, relaxed at dinner, better than he had felt around others in some time. They offered to let him stay in the guest room, but it felt like that would be too much too soon, like he would be overstaying his welcome.

“I do not mind the drive,” Barsad promised as he stepped out onto the porch, the brisk night air chilling his skin immediately, making him hunch his shoulders.

“Will you let me come to you next time?” Bane asked as he walked him to the truck. It made Barsad feel silly, like he was being escorted home from a high school date. The question surprised him, though.

“Visit me?”

“We usually do not do work until late in the afternoon. It would be less inconvenient for me to drive home later during a weeknight than it would be for you.”

It was settled. Bane would come to see him on Wednesday. They would try out a session then, if Barsad felt comfortable.

Barsad wanted to be comfortable.

The beginning of the work week was stressful, stupid students with equally stupid questions, the usual trouble with sleep leaving him tossing and turning all night. He was too grateful for a change in routine Wednesday night to be as nervous as he could have been. He scrubbed clean, ate a quick dinner, and was just wiping clean his dish and putting it away as Bane arrived.

“You're much better dressed now,” Bane told him when he opened the door. Barsad laughed. He had changed into sweats and an old night shirt, having remembered that Bane had told him to wear something comfortable.

“I am glad it meets your approval.”

“It does, as does your apartment,” he added as he looked at the small neat living area. “Carpeting would be better for your knees, however.”

Barsad chuckled quietly at that and nodded in agreement. “Should we start right away?”

“That depends on what you think would help put you into a good head space.”

They decided to start with a movie, instead. He realized as they sat down together on the couch that Bane was the first person that he'd ever had inside of his apartment. When he said it out loud, Bane smiled, told him he was honored, earning a snort from Barsad. When Bane wrapped an arm around him slowly, he asked if it was ok.

“I checked yes for 'cuddling', did I not?” he answered, letting himself lean into the warm fingers carding through his hair.

“What will help you get there? Is there something I can do to help, or would you rather be left alone while you find it for yourself?”

He rolled his shoulders slightly, keeping his eyes on the film. “I don't know, probably alone. I've never done it with someone here... It is a hard place for me to go.”

“It was for me, as well, when I first started. My muzzle used to be the only thing that would help me disconnect from the world,” Bane told him as he curled his fingers into his hair. “Now we only tend to use it for camera sessions.”

“Do you like it better without?”

Bane shook his head. “No more or less. Both have their appeal. I tend to go less deep without my muzzle, but it is easier for Talia to be able to put me into a head space whenever she wishes now that I don't need it. She likes helping me slip into it throughout the day.”

“How, without the muzzle to help separate?”

“It can be different for different people. For us, it is a command, a simple change in her language, a different way that she touches me.” When Barsad looked over, Bane could clearly see the curiosity in his eyes because he touched the back of his neck in a warm, careful grip, it felt good, almost possessive. “Like this. Her tone changes. I might be doing a simple task, washing the dishes, for example, and she will touch me like this, or on my stomach, tell me what a good boy that I am being for her.”

“That's it? But you were in the middle of something.” His brow furrowed. “Do you drop the dishes and then go down to your knees?”

“Not all pups stay on their knees. It is more mental than anything else, isn't it? I most prefer to be on my hands and knees when I am in my head space, but I don't have to be. I can do simple tasks if needed, behave myself in public, even, if she is keeping careful control of me.” His lips curled suddenly in amusement. “She has even taken me out in it, let me hold onto her arm as my leash; had to keep me from chasing after a ball one of the neighborhood children had thrown.”

Barsad tipped his head back in amusement at the thought. It was so strange to hear Bane speak so candidly about it, like it was so natural. “I can't imagine going out like that. I—the times I have managed it, I am energetic, I like to get into things, dig around.”

“I'm sure that I will enjoy that, and I'll be sure to wear you down with some playtime.”

He liked that thought. As the movie wound down, Barsad closed his eyes and Bane didn't say a word beyond a quiet check to make sure he remembered his safe word. He seemed to understand what he was trying to do. Barsad shifted away from his touch when it became uncomfortable while he was focusing, and he wasn't chased back into it. He tried to ignore that Bane was in the room, eventually moving off of the couch, snatching a blanket up with him and taking it to the corner, relieved when he didn't hear so much as a chuckle from Bane when he curled up on it.

He couldn't forget he was there, though. His mind wouldn't let him. He could not simply let his guard down when there was someone else in his presence. Every single bit of his military training was screaming in his brain what a stupid mistake that would be, that Bane was powerful, a threat, that he was a fool even to be closing his eyes.

The final thought made him snap them open, taking a shaky breath, eyes quickly roaming around the room to locate the possible threat to his being.

Bane was still on the couch, relaxed. He had been thumbing through his phone, probably sending a text to Talia. Barsad's uncertain breathing seemed to alert him and he looked over, sympathetic while Barsad was frustrated with himself, finally able to get something he'd been dreaming of, only to have his body thwarting him.

“It does not have to happen tonight. Watch another movie with me.”

He did, but he was frustrated throughout it. Bane was patient now, but what if that only extended for a few tries. Why should it not? There were others that would be easier, faster. Bane's hand was in his hair again, but this time he shrunk down from it.

“How many times do we try?”

“That depends on how many times it takes. Why do you think it didn't work?”

“It doesn't every time... and I couldn't stop thinking of you being in the room.”

“You do not trust me.” Bane held up his hand when Barsad opened his mouth to protest. “Of course you don't. You barely know me. Even if you would like to, you can't force yourself into trusting me.”

“What do we do, then?” he asked, frustrated.

“We watch another movie, and then you will come visit Talia and I this weekend.”

“I could try to make the shift while you aren't here, and you could come in after. It seems a shame to waste your time.”

Barsad stilled when Bane's hand cupped his cheek. He wondered briefly if he would press those soft, scarred lips against him, but Bane’s thumb ran slowly across his lips instead, sending a warm tingle through them. “I am having a pleasant evening. I hardly consider it a waste, but if you would like to try it that way we can, after you join Talia and I for dinner this weekend.”

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, slightly amused that he was being forced to be sociable. He had certainly not been warned about that when he applied for this, that they might treat him as though he was a friend outside of play.

“Very well.”


	4. Chapter 4

That weekend, he found himself in their back yard, sitting beside Talia on a patio chair, sipping a cold beer as the condensation wet his fingertips. He still felt a rush of anxiousness near her, flustered almost. She seemed to only find it charming.

“Don't expect Bane to give up on you so easily,” she confided in him quietly while Bane brought food out to the table, an impromptu barbeque having  been decided on. “When he is fascinated by something, someone, he has more patience than any other.” She turned and smiled at Bane when he set down a plate beside her, kissing his cheek in thanks.

“I have learned that those things in life I have held most dear were those worth waiting for, fighting for,” Bane said as he ran his fingers through Talia's hair, clearly having overheard.

“Was there a fight for her, when you met, a wait?” Barsad asked.

“Both,” Talia answered, her hand going to Bane's lips, touching over the slivers of scars there. “A battle, but a story for another day.”

They spent the night drinking, exchanging stories. Barsad told of his antics in the military, the temper and... at times not so harmless pranks that had nearly gotten him discharged at more than one point.

“You do not lack discipline, but you are not one who follows blindly,” Bane told him, and Barsad's cheeks and head felt warm, the alcohol pleasantly fizzing in him, letting him settle back into his chair and nod. The sun had set and they had lit a few candles, let the sound of crickets chirping and the cool air of the night providing a pleasant ambiance.

“I will follow happily, earnestly, but only if I am certain that there is truly a leader put in front of me,” he told him honestly, feeling the words harder to form on his lips with the drink in him, but no less true.

“I will take these,” Talia informed him playfully when his hands pulled his truck keys from his pocket. He tried to protest, but was hushed and felt himself redden when her soft lips went to his cheek, kissing against the bristle there. “You have had too much to drive.”

When he stood and felt the slight wobble in his legs, he was forced to agree. His knees buckled and he laughed, falling backwards with a rush of wind leaving him, when Bane was pushing him down slightly onto the guest bed. His own eyes were clouded when Barsad gazed up into them and he seemed entertained when Barsad hooked an arm around him, breathed out as their foreheads touched.

“You could kiss me now, you know.” He licked across his own lips slightly in anticipation.

“I could,” Bane acknowledged and placed a warm hand on his stomach, pushing there and making him squirm slightly under the pressure, “but I would rather wait until you would like it without a bit of beer warming your belly and encouraging you.”

Barsad merely hummed when the hand on his stomach rubbed for a moment then a blanket was tucked around him. He was asleep soon after, easily, so easily.

“Did I embarrass myself?” he couldn't help but ask the following morning as he stretched out under the blankets, scrubbed his hands over his face when Talia greeted him with a cup of coffee.

“Not at all; you are a gentleman even tipsy,” she teased him, and he laughed quietly, curling up when she set the mug by the bed, telling him that it was perfectly fine if he wished to sleep in more. It was a rare thing for him to be able to slip back into sleep after waking, but he enjoyed lying in the bed for a few minutes longer before he took the cup of coffee and drank it gratefully.

Bane cleared his throat softly so Barsad was not started by his presence when he padded out of the room. Instead of a spoken greeting, he hooked an arm around Barsad's waist, pulling him in close. When Barsad felt his nose against the crook of his neck, how he nuzzled there a moment and sniffed slightly, seeming to enjoy the scent of sleep on him, he shivered slightly at the intimacy and threatened to dump his coffee on him. That earned him a rich laugh, a warm hand patting his hip before he was let go.

“I enjoy the intimacy of being around someone when they have just woken, how their body feels looser, how they smell... I think that you will be very sweet as a sleepy-eyed pup after a nap.”

Barsad snorted softly and sipped his coffee, refusing to let the strange compliment embarrass him. “My eyes do lend to it.”

Bane made an amused sound and went downstairs with him for breakfast. When he was finally leaving, Bane walked him to his truck again, resting his hand against it as they spoke.

“I could visit you Wednesday again. If you feel comfortable with it, you could leave your door unlocked for me...try to prepare yourself beforehand.”

“Yes,” Barsad agreed quickly, perhaps too eagerly, but Bane only seemed pleased. “I might be naked,” he pointed out quickly after, and Bane laughed quietly, telling him he was ok with that.

_____________________

 

Bane walked down the narrow hall slowly, making sure not to rush or appear overly anxious. If Barsad had managed to work himself down into his pup space, then he would want to make a good first impression, especially as a virtual stranger entering his space.

He patted the soft foam ball that he had tucked into the loose pocket of his cargo pants; luckily, he was not above a little cheating. He had handled pups before, had romped with them in his own head space, but he had never been in the position where it was him alone in charge. The idea thrilled him in an entirely different way than the thrill he got moving down onto his knees and being a good boy for Talia.

When he twisted the doorknob, he heard rustling through the door, a confused noise, then the unmistakable sound of a pup scampering towards the door, as fast as wooden flooring and boney knees would allow. He slipped in past the door quickly, shutting it behind him so that he would not be giving Barsad's neighbors something to gossip over.

Barsad was at his feet in an instant, bare from head to toe, head ticked to the side uncertainly, his sleepy-lidded eyes unnaturally wide with surprise at the sudden invader. It was only a moment before an uncertain yip left him and Bane crouched down, letting him nose at his hands with no small measure of curiosity.

“It's alright pup, it's alright,” he soothed quietly, and that seemed to be all it would take. For all of Barsad's unspoken tension and mistrust, it seemed that he was a trusting pup, a lonely pup, and he was soon crowding in closer, trying to hop up and press his hands against Bane's knees for attention.

Bane laughed softly and gently corrected his hopping up, rewarding him with slow pets down his back that had Barsad nearly wriggling with excitement, soaking up the attention. The curve of his body was quite beautiful, and he tousled his hair slightly, letting it muss, pleased with how his pup craned his head this way and that for more attention, a light scratching behind the ears.

“What a good boy you are,” Bane murmured, and Barsad shivered, leaning against him. He could not resist kissing the top of his head. His pup leaned up close and Bane was treated to a delicate flick of his tongue against his cheek, a sweet puppy kiss.

He stood up, getting an anxious look from Barsad, his eyes flicking to the door, but he had no intentions of leaving his pup. He clicked his tongue and could practically see the way his pup's ears pricked, his head snapping to attention more.

“Here, boy.” He patted his hip, pleased to see how Barsad fell into place behind him, happily crawling to the living room, though he stopped at the door frame, making an uncertain sound, and Bane held back a chuckle, not wanting to encourage bad behavior, when he realized why.

“You are a little mischief maker, aren't you?” he mused, and his pup was lowering his head down to the ground, his chin pressed against the wood of the floor as his shoulders hunched. The living room had been pulled apart by a certain curious and lonely pup, the couch cushions dragged onto the floor, the books and a magazine or two lining the table scattered, some bits of laundry dragged out of a knocked over hamper that Bane could see spilled out on the floor in the bedroom.

His pup knew what he did, and he would be starting with a terrible example of how to behave if he did nothing about it when light correction was something Barsad had checked ‘yes’ to. He yelped out at the light swat across his rump that Bane delivered with one of the magazines. His bright blues seeming absolutely crushed at the firm “naughty pup” Bane spoke out.

It was a bit too much. Bane knew well just how terrible those words felt when he was in his own pup space, and soon he was crouching down and cupping Barsad's cheeks, scratching through his stubble. Apparently, he was panning out to be a complete pushover, at least when it came to this pup. Those deep blue eyes were simply unreasonable.

“Alright, alright, pup, I know. You just wanted some attention, didn't you?” He soothed through his hair and down his neck until Bane's 'transgression' was forgiven and his pup was trying to clamber on top of him. He laughed and ended up tussling with him, enjoying the feeling of him squirming and huffing under him, nipping playfully at the tips of his fingers before licking them when he'd pinned  him to the ground.

When he brought out the ball, his pup’s hips were nearly wagging in his excitement over the sight of the soft red foam, something he wouldn't hurt his teeth on if he chose to chew on it. Bane held it for him to sniff, pulled it back each time he tried to snap it up in his mouth until Barsad made a frustrated noise at the teasing. He relented, tossing it lightly, and Barsad clambered after it. He was still obviously new to being on all fours, but eager for the play. When it was caught up, it took some coaxing for his pup to release it for another throw, but after several throws, when he seemed to understand that letting go of his new toy meant another fetch, it seemed to suit him well.

Bane cleaned up a little between tosses, not wanting to invade Barsad's personal space but not wanting to leave him a mess, either. By the time he finished, his pup was panting with exertion. His tongue was not hanging out fully but dipped out against his bottom lip slightly. It wasn't hard to find his water bowl in the kitchen area, filling it and chuckling at how his pup pawed at the floor eagerly as he lowered it.

“You drink up,” he encouraged as Barsad half lapped, half slurped at the water. He stroked the back of his neck before standing, his eyes catching on a scrap of paper on the counter, a note that he had missed, written out in slightly scratchy, clipped script.

_I ate before you came, but if you're hungry or want to feed me there's some snacks in the fridge. Sorry if I got into anything. Can we have a nap?_

Reading it brought a smile to his face. He enjoyed Barsad's personality outside of his puppy mode very much, and was pleased that he was so far enjoying him as a pup just as much. It seemed like this had been a smart match. A nap was certainly something feasible. He imagined that Barsad had been a bit uncertain about asking, judging by how the lines there were smudged, as if something had been erased and rewritten, and he certainly wanted to reward the initiative. Besides, he had not been lying when he’d told the man that he thought he would enjoy him as a sleepy puppy.


	5. Chapter 5

Bane waited for Barsad to have his fill of water before he walked back to the living room. He didn't need to call for him, it only took a second before he was scampering back in with him, eyes wider until he located him on the couch. He held back a laugh at his confused look, the tilt of his head when Bane patted the couch invitingly.

“Come on, up.”

It got a soft whine and Bane shook his head, sliding his hands under his pup’s underarms and pulling gently. It seemed to help him get the hint, and soon he was scrambling up with him, hands digging into his thighs as he tried to climb onto him excitedly. Bane got him to settle, though, persuaded him with some prodding and petting to be content half lying in his lap, the rest of him sprawled out on the couch lazily, one leg hooked over the arm of it as he gazed up at him adoringly.

He was sure the belly scratches didn't hurt the adoration factor. They had Barsad squirming and grunting contently; a few murmurs of what a good boy he was being practically had him glowing. He put on the television and Barsad mostly ignored it, disinterested when Bane was there for attention, but it made good background noise as Bane checked the state of his knees. They were a bit tender looking, but Bane would keep him off of them for the rest of the night.

It didn't take long for him to find himself with a lapful of sleeping pup. Barsad's breathing was even and content. Bane took a moment to admire him. He was quite beautiful, slender but not fragile, and there was no doubting the muscle his smaller body held when it was bare before him. He only touched to pet, though, not to arouse. He would enjoy it if Barsad decided he wanted to explore more with him, but for now that was not their relationship, and while his pup trusted easily, Barsad did not. He would do nothing to risk the tenuous bond they were forming.

Instead, he was content to watch the steady rise and fall of his pup's chest, wondering how Barsad would wake. He found it differed for him, if he was sent to sleep in his pup head space, whether or not he woke in it, as well. If he dreamed it seemed to work him out of it, but when he didn't, he would happily wake up, licking Talia's cheek playfully in greeting.

_____________________

 

Barsad snorted and kicked his leg out, confused when his sole brushed against the arm of the couch. A hand was suddenly on his arm, steadying him and he swung out, hitting whoever it was in the chest and earning a grunt before his wrist was taken hold of. It was the gentleness with which it was done that had him stilling, realizing. He was let go, and he rubbed his eyes before he looked up at Bane.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep. The sudden burst of uncertainty had certainly roused him, but the adrenaline had quickly died down, letting him breathe even while he was lying out in Bane's lap, stark naked. There wasn't much point in hiding that when Bane had been petting it all night.

“It's quite alright. You were startled,” Bane dismissed the smack and touched his forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Really good.” It was the honest truth. He felt wonderful, like the buzz of joy he'd felt the last few hours was still thrumming in his chest. He could easily remember what had happened, how excited he had been to play, to have company, to be petted. His inner pup had had the time of his life.

He laughed suddenly, remembered the magazine swat. “You're a pushover.” He yelped in surprise when Bane mashed his hand over his face playfully.

“For you, I fear I might be. I cleaned up some of your mess."

“You didn't have to.” He lifted his head to glance around. It wasn't so bad, not enough that he felt the need to get up and fix it. Right now, he didn't mind just staying where he was.

“I did not mind. The nap was a good idea. You are very cute when sleepy.”

“Me or the pup?”

“Both,” Bane said with a chuckle, and Barsad closed his eyes when he continued to thread his fingers through his hair. He answered the questions he was asked as best as he could, what worked, what didn't. He found that there was very little that didn't. The evening had gone better then he could have hoped, and he expressed that with a quiet thank-you.

“The pleasure was mine. I had a very good time, as well,” Bane promised. “However, I think we should get you some knee pads.”

“I'll pick some up,” Barsad agreed. He could feel some soreness there, nothing serious, but if this became a regular thing, he could see it being a problem. They talked a bit more; Bane seemed to want to stay, to make sure that he was really ok, that he hadn't been left in a bad head space. It was nice, to realize how genuinely the man cared about the aftermath of play, that he wanted to make sure everything worked.

“You were great,” Barsad finally told him, sitting up and stretching his legs out, “but I need to sleep for real soon, and it is a long drive back for you.” He hesitated a moment before turning back to face him. “Will we do this again soon?”

“As soon as you are ready for another session.”

They scheduled another, and this time it was Barsad who saw Bane out to his car. He stumbled back a bit into his apartment, tired and happy to curl up in his bed, ignoring the spilled out hamper in favor of sinking into a deeper sleep.

Wednesday night became play night. It was the night he looked forward to more than any other, his break in the middle of the week to clear his head, pup out and live only in the moment, only for Bane's gentle praise and patient instruction. He still couldn't let himself go when Bane was there, but Bane didn't mind, was happy to be sure to not come too early, to give him time to get to where he needed to go on his own. Barsad always left him notes, anything he thought might be important before he stripped down and curled up in the corner of the room. It was easier to get into his head space now, his pup happy to come out to play with the promise of attention.

_____________________

 

Bane chuckled at his pup's incredibly friendly greeting, gently guiding his head away when he nosed and huffed at his crotch. It was just puppy curiosity. He knew Barsad wasn't ready for anything of the sort, that he might not ever be, that he was still just now getting used to this side of himself.

“That's enough, pup.” He ruffed through his hair, earning a yip of indignation, the plaintive blue-eyed look that told him that _he_ was clearly in the wrong here when his puppy was simply curious about all of the smells and feels Bane had, wanting to explore them all. All of that was quickly forgotten at the mention of the word 'ball', and Barsad quickly scampered off to find said object for some playtime.

His pup had been doing better about not tearing the place apart when he was alone. He got into messes, to be sure, but they had found that one of Bane's shirts tucked into his blankets in the corner helped. Bane often found him wrapped up in it instead of pulling out the couch cushions or knocking over the hamper. It was a trick he had learned from Talia, who was quite happy for how they were progressing. She had not seen Barsad's pup side, yet, but they thought that one day she might visit, too. For now, she often sent little toys with him. 

She called to check in as she often did, and his pup was quick to paw at the phone as it vibrated on the coffee table, all ideas of 'nap time' quickly fleeing his head at the new stimulus. Bane ruffed through his hair as he spoke to her, chuckled at how Barsad tilted his head and made sour faces at the phone, the cruel device taking some of the attention from him. When Bane put it to his ear, though, he seemed quite mollified, a grin breaking onto his face when Bane could hear the faint praising 'good boy' coming from the speaker.

“He liked that,” Bane told her when he took the phone back, and Barsad curled up with him contently.

“I wish I could see him. I am sure he is so sweet.” 

“Perhaps he will be comfortable enough for you to visit, too, one day, or even to be able to find his head space in our home.” Barsad had ended up spending the night more than once over the weekends. They certainly did not mind having him, encouraging him up into the spare room when he was obviously tired, assuring him that it was no bother, that it would be better than the long trip home in the dark of night.

Just last visit, Talia had shown him how easily Bane could be put into his pup space for her. They had sat in the breakfast nook and she had leaned in close, run her hand over his shortly-cropped hair, told him what a good boy he was. The actions made the switch easy to let himself slip into his head space like it was a warm blanket, enveloping him as he nuzzled her hand, happily slipping down to his knees under the table to eagerly whine for scraps of people food and bits of affection.

Barsad had been fascinated to see it in person, and Bane had spent some time eating from his hand, curious about the new guest but liking his pretty eyes and how he laughed quietly, ticklish when he licked his palm. 

Now his pup was nosing at his chest, huffing contently. He seemed to be very smell oriented, loving to sniff at Bane each time he came over, as though he was checking to make sure nothing had changed since his last visit. His hand pawed at the dog tags Bane always wore, and Bane found himself unwinding the chain from his fingers while he finished up his conversation with Talia.

“Those aren't toys, puppy.” He ruffled his hair, finally coaxing him to settle more as he tucked his tags back down his shirt. No one ever glanced twice at them, but they were not the tags he had been given in the military. Those had long ago been tucked away, replaced with these. A collar was not a practical thing to wear out every day, but they had long ago decided together that the tags were just as symbolic, engraved with his name and hers, marking him as her pup and always worn as a reminder.


	6. Chapter 6

After the nap, Barsad was out of his head space but looked dozy, his eyes barely opened as he groaned and curled up more against Bane. Bane chuckled softly when he ran his hand down his back and it got a content noise.

“It got to be a bit later than planned; I could carry you to bed.”

“That'd be a sight. I'm not as light as a look.”

“I'll manage.” Once the idea was spoken, he couldn't seem to resist it, enjoying how Barsad wrapped around him, fingers digging in uncertainly as Bane stood with him in his arms, until it became clear he would not be dropped. Barsad had not been lying. He was a heavy weight in his arms, but it was a short trip to the bedroom. It would have been perfectly fine if a certain puppy hadn't dragged out a shoe and left it in the middle of the walkway.

As it was, they ended up falling into the bed together, elbows jamming into ribs, noses banging off shoulders.  They froze in shock before they started laughing together. Bane apologized, but Barsad only shook his head, rubbing the bristle of his cheek against Bane's in the process. Bane nuzzled back for a moment before he pressed their foreheads together, listening to Barsad's quiet breathing as he crowded over him, an elbow pressed into the mattress by his head to steady him.

“May I kiss you?”

_____________________

 

Barsad laughed again and slid his fingers up the closely-shorn fuzz at the back of Bane's head. “I thought you might never ask.”

Bane only hummed, pleased with his response as he lowered himself down to slot their lips together. It was so tender, the way Bane's scarred over lips slid against his own, that it made something ache in his chest. It had been a long time since he had been kissed, and they had never quite made him feel so dizzy, like his breath was catching in his throat when Bane's body pressed down against him, pinning him gently to the bed as his hands curled behind his head, cradling it as he coaxed kiss after kiss from him until his lips were tingling from it, dropping open with a gasp as Bane teasingly licked across them.

“To your liking?” Bane asked playfully, his voice low and his breath ghosting over Barsad's slicked lips. He made a noise of agreement and was kissed again before Bane nipped the corner of his jaw, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

“Should we perhaps consider a revision of the list?”

Barsad thought about it for a few moments before nodding. “I'll look over it... to see if there are some answers that have changed.”

He felt especially well rested the next morning, the combination of being able to let go coupled with the fact that he had spent a good portion of the evening sprawled out in Bane's arms for nap time. He almost forewent his usual morning cup of coffee.

Almost.

As it was, the classes went quickly. He was just starting a new round of students now, only a week or two into the classes, and the day had mostly been spent as a lecture on proper procedures when it came to firing a weapon. He preferred the actual weapons training infinitely more than the theoretical work, and he was sure his students felt the same, but both were needed, with a mandatory amount of hours for each to pass testing.

He passed out some paperwork that he was sure would simply be dumped into the trashcan outside of the door, and dismissed the class early. He was hoping to be able to get some range time on his own. He usually took the time during the weekends, but his weekends had been pleasantly full as of late, and while they were immensely satisfying, his fingers itched and he found himself wishing for the steady calm that came with focusing on his target and pulling the trigger.

He had brought his own handgun, of course. Keeping it in its shoulder holster during a lecture seemed to make the students more attentive. When he snapped at them for not paying attention, oftentimes their eyes would flick to it in a bit of worry. Barsad did nothing to dissuade it. He slid some items into the duffle bag he carried with him to classes and paused to pull out a box of ammunition, holding it thoughtfully.

“You going out to the range?”

His head snapped up at the unexpected question. He had assumed that all of the students had already filtered out of the classroom. Apparently, he was mistaken, for now one of them was leaning casually against his desk, lean but clearly with a good build, his black hair neatly styled. He probably had dimples when he smiled, if he smiled, for even with the friendliness of his tone his lips didn't curve. His hands rested down on the cool metal of the desk as his head gestured towards the box of bullets Barsad was holding.

Barsad shoved the box back into his bag, disgruntled slightly that he had completely missed the other man's presence. He vaguely recognized the man in front of him. He asked questions, actually seemed to care about the morality section of the lesson plan; it was quaint.

“Is there something I can help you with? All of the notes have been made available online.”

“What? No, no, I know,” the man shook his head, “I know most of this stuff, anyway. I just decided to take this class to brush up on things. I'm trying to make detective, and I figured it could give me an edge.”

“You're an officer, then,” he guessed easily. He wouldn't be the first. The police had their own training programs, but the more ambitious ones often came to the range to learn more. “And what can I do for you, officer?”

“It's Blake, and I was wondering if you would give me a private lesson.” Blake steadied him with a level look, no beating around the bush for him. “I asked around. You have the best skills here, but you aren't listed under private tutoring.”

“I am not.” He didn't prefer it. Generally those undergoing it were the wealthy who considered themselves too good for a group class. Most barely knew how to hold a gun and yet expected him to be able to give them the ability to shoot like in the too-many-movies they had seen.

“Would you be willing to reconsider?”

“Not unless your wallet contains an impressive amount of cash,” he shot back with a false pleasantness. It drew a sharp laugh from Blake who shook his head.

“I've got a 20 in there and a maxed-out credit card. I was kind of hoping to ply you with a beer, instead, cheap beer.”

The unexpected honesty made him laugh in return. He would have dismissed Blake before, but he was in a particularly pleasant mood that day and the idea of having some company was oddly appealing when it so rarely was. “Perhaps I could use a beer, after all. Come shoot with me. If you're not so bad, we'll shoot together and I'll correct your form as we go.”

Blake could smile, after all. It was small, guarded, but even then the dimples showed before it flashed out of existence. He grabbed up his bag as though he wanted to make sure he was out on the range with Barsad before he could change his mind.

He was fairly good, nothing spectacular, not his own skill level, certainly. His stance was a bit off, but his shot was steady, little hesitation, and Barsad could see how some lessons with him would bring improvement. He wasn't the lost cause he had seen in many students by any means. They shot off a few rounds together before Barsad stepped him, found himself standing behind Blake and taking hold of his arms, molding him into a better position before he fired again.

“You're very stiff,” he commented, though he nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment that the change in position seemed to help.

“Who isn't now a days?” Blake shot back. “Everyone's stressed, makes it hard to loosen up.”

Barsad just made a noise of agreement. “You'd probably have shot better if we had the beer first.”

“Asshole,” Blake muttered, but Barsad could see the way the corner of his mouth ticked up.

Barsad nearly choked on the first sip of his pint. Blake hadn't been kidding when he’d said cheap. He shot him a look as he sat beside him on a bar stool, his own mug in his hands, not seeming bothered by the taste. Barsad couldn't help but wonder why he was humoring this, what he was doing here. He had never interacted with one of his students outside of the classroom. There seemed to be little reason to start now. Perhaps seeking out attention had made him realize that it did not always have unfavorable outcomes. Perhaps it was because Blake seemed like a tightly wound sarcastic asshole, and Barsad apparently enjoyed that.

“I have a confession to make,” Blake said as he ran his thumb through the condensation on his mug.

“Oh? Trying to get me liquored up, first?”

“It'd take a lot more than a pint of this stuff to do it,” Blake pointed out then shook his head. “No, it's just that I've seen you before. We live in the same apartment complex, so I've passed you once or twice. I didn't want you to think I was stalking you.”

Barsad laughed quietly. He had thought the reason Blake seemed vaguely familiar was only due to his teaching. “I would not have thought that you moved into the apartment complex to get free tutoring.”

That made Blake snort and shake his head. “Not likely. I just figured I'd mention it in case you saw me around. I've seen you around.”

“I'll keep it in mind, officer.” His lips curled slightly at the title. It was strange to picture Blake in a uniform, but he supposed that the rigidity the man carried with him made it more fitting, the careful controlled way he held his body when he wasn't picking at his fingernails or shifting on his seat. It was as if he was trapped in two different roles and was not sure which to stick with. Barsad could relate.

Perhaps that's why he agreed to those private lessons, no charge, and why he began to go out with Blake several times a week afterward for drinks, both alternating who would pay until they both came to the conclusion that it was easier and cheaper to just drink at home, switching back and forth apartments and engrossed more than once in the topic of gun control, of the moral ambiguity that lies in knowing when to pull a trigger.

It only struck him several weeks in that he had made a friend. Perhaps he had made more than that. He would never have noticed it without Bane's guidance, Bane who was only pleased he was getting out more, who encouraged the budding friendship even as they exchanged kisses after a play session. But now he did notice, how Blake tried not to stare, how he alternated between sitting as far apart on the couch as he could and sitting so that their thighs brushed, how he was at moments shyer, sweeter, others just as closed off as Barsad was. Barsad jokingly told Bane that the boy was a puppy without even realizing it.

He would not have thought to encourage it before, but the greatest surprise to Barsad was that he found himself interested, curious. It had been a long time, and Bane was his handler, not his lover, he had Talia for that, but experience had proven that he at the very least found kissing another man enjoyable. It was not so far-fetched to believe that he might enjoy more.


	7. Chapter 7

So while he said nothing, he did nothing to discourage it, let himself lean in closer to Blake when they would watch a movie together, did not act surprised when Blake cautiously mentioned an old boyfriend he had had, as if he was checking to be sure Barsad was not put off. After that, it only took the right moment, a shared laugh, a lazy smile given before Blake's face became less guarded, before he was leaning in, hand balancing on Barsad's thigh as he kissed him, quickly, with a light bump of their noses that had Blake seeming to realize what he was doing, pulling back sharply and clearing his throat.

“I'm sorry, I'm _really_ sorry,” he grimaced. “I shouldn't have just assumed—”

There he was again, caught between his roles, anxious and sweet narrows boy juxtaposing against the hard shell he tried to portray as an officer, 'above it all,' including the obvious desire that had been growing for Barsad.

Barsad took his hand and pulled him back to kiss again, feeling a small, cautious smile against his mouth when they paused, how Blake bit at his own for a moment before asking.

“It's ok?”

“It's ok,” he answered back, a chuckle dying in his chest at how Blake pushed over him on the couch more, flicked his tongue into his mouth greedily. He wasn't sure exactly how they became wound up in each other, with Blake's limber arms curling around his head, eager, sucking kisses stinging down to his throat where he murmured softly, nuzzled as Barsad's hands found their way to the small of his back, trailing down his ass and squeezing at the firm flesh.

He could not find it in himself to complain, though, only growling playfully as their hips shifted and they ground against each other, warmth pooling down towards his cock at the friction before he shifted his head back, felt Blake panting against his ear.

“Too fast?”

“A little fast, but not unpleasant,” Barsad told him honestly, biting lightly at the thumb Blake curved from his chin to his lips.

“We can do slower.”

“Not too slow.”

Bane and Talia teased him over supper, happily informing him that they both had every right to, that they had considered taking bets on how long it would take when Barsad had first mentioned him. He resisted the near pout he felt building up inside and instead swiped up more of the delicious pilaf that Talia had made for them.

“It is nothing serious.” It was not as if it _could_ be anything serious. He had no intentions of telling Blake how he spent his Wednesday nights, and as guarded as he knew he was, he believed in honesty when it came to serious involvement. He saw it in Talia and Bane's relationship, and he admired it, how content they were together, open. He had finally felt slightly, slightly less intimidated by her, and was now simply struck by her presence in general, her stern but at times playful personality.

“Serious or not, it is good for you to be getting out more,” Bane told him as he poured out some more water for him.

“Yes, _mother,”_ he shot back, only smirking at the way Bane's brow furrowed. Talia touched his hand and directed his attention back to her.

“Don't tease him. He already knows what a mother hen he is. Now, tell me, have you been exploring things more?”

He didn't have to ask what she meant. He had re-evaluated his list of things that were acceptable to pursue a week or so ago. It had changed, but at the same time they agreed not to rush into it, to let things come at their own pace if they did.

“Not quite yet.”

“He is a curious pup. I would not be surprised if it happens, considering he has a fascination with nosing at my crotch,” Bane said, amused, and Barsad resisted the urge to duck his head in embarrassment. It wasn't his fault if while he was a pup Bane smelled so interesting there. He of course remembered his time as a pup, his mind didn't exactly check out, he simply felt... more free during it, not thinking of consequences of actions, only living in the moment; so if Bane smelled interesting and it felt good to nuzzle him there, then by no means was he going to stop unless discouraged.

After dinner, he pulled Talia aside and whispered a question to her, relieved when she smiled and granted her permission.

“If you feel you can.”

He nodded and took her hands, kissing them in quiet thanks, taking the offered opportunity to use the guestroom overnight.

 

_____________________

 

Bane woke to the feeling of his hand being nudged at lightly. He went to playfully push Talia's face away so he could roll onto her, wrap her up under him and kiss down her spine. He stopped, puzzled, when he felt scruff against his fingertips, opening his eyes slowly.

Barsad was crouched on the bed in a pair of sleep shorts they'd set aside for when he stayed over, blue eyes wider with excitement. When he saw Bane was _finally_ awake for him, he let out a soft bark, trying to pounce but getting caught up in Bane's arms, instead.

“Why hello there, puppy.” He kissed his cheek affectionately, ruffling his hair. He was surprised but proud that Barsad had been able to slip into his pup head space in their home, even if they had been sleeping during it. He suspected that Talia's absence from their bed was no coincidence. They must have discussed it last night.  He smiled and Barsad perked up at seeing it, eyes shutting tight in pure bliss when Bane reached to rub behind his ears slowly.

“What a good pup you are.” It had clearly been a surprise that he had been planning and Bane was pleased that he felt comfortable enough to do it, to know that Bane would enjoy it. The gentle words had Barsad butting against his hands happily, a delicate lick being delivered to his fingertips.

Bane rolled them so that Barsad was settled under him, laughing at the little surprised yelp the action got, the way Barsad wriggled contently against the bedsheets as he rubbed briskly down his belly. He wondered if Talia was downstairs or if she had gone out for the day to give them privacy. He decided to find out after he worked Barsad over with enough belly scratches to send his leg twitching.

“Come on, pup,” he thumped the palm of his hand over his stomach lightly, getting a grunt, “let’s get some breakfast.”

Barsad was happy to scramble out of the bed with him, the soft carpet in the house letting him move a lot more easily than the hardwood in his apartment, and he didn't seem to have any trouble with it even without his knee pads.

Until they got to the stairs, that is. Bane leaned down and patted his head when Barsad stared down them, whining uncertainly as he put his hands to the edge of the first stair. Stairs were a tricky thing. He usually went down them backwards. He had an inkling he wasn't getting Barsad down them, period.

“Spoiled, boy,” was all he whispered against his ear when he scooped him up and felt grateful arms scramble to cling to his shoulders as he descended them carefully, setting him down on the bottom. Barsad let out a cheerful bark, happy to explore the new area.

Bane heard an uncertain whine from the kitchen and knew that he had found Talia. When he crossed over into the kitchen to go make sure the meeting went well, he found himself leaning against the door frame to watch as Talia had already won him over. She crouched down on the floor, petting through his hair as she held out a muffin for him to take bites from.

“Charmer.”

She merely laughed softly and stood up to kiss him, drawing a curious noise from Barsad.

“He is precious. Be careful not to give me too much of your attention,” she rubbed her hand up his chest slightly, “he seems like the sort of pup that might get jealous.”

“He is quite used to having me to himself,” he agreed.

Barsad was more than content to take attention from both of them during breakfast, though, twisting his head this way and that for petting, politely presenting his hand on command, a trick they'd been working on, for bites of muffin. After, Talia excused herself for errands, kissing his cheek and whispering that she had left contraceptives and lubricant in the living room if needed. He admired the forethought.

Barsad managed to find his storage of toys while he explored the living room. Bane had to chuckle at himself when he felt a sudden spark of jealousy when Barsad pulled out his favorite brown ball and started to play with it. He would get used to sharing if Barsad liked this, if he wanted to try it out more in their home. He tossed the ball around for him, it being brought back to him excitedly each time until Barsad wore himself out, dropping the ball off at the corner of the couch and hopping up with him, laying his head in his lap.

“Such a good boy.” Bane scratched through his beard and Barsad sighed, stretched out his legs and squirmed to get comfortable. Bane saw it as an opportunity to take a chance, smoothing his finger along his throat, down his chest. He tended to keep his touches more like a pet, soothing, relaxing, but then he let his fingertips tease, circling them slowly across one of Barsad's nipples until it began to pebble under his touch. He watched Barsad's reaction, how he arched slightly in his lap and whined.

“You like that, don't you, puppy?” he teased, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile when Barsad licked his lips, his mouth dropping open into a soft pant as Bane continued to tease and caress over his chest, his peaked nipples.

His pup’s eyes lidded as Bane's fingers crept down his belly, tracing over the sparse hair just under his navel, a light scratch there and a push with his fingertips pulling a content sounding groan from him, another squirm, and Bane was unsurprised to see how he was tenting the thin gray material of his sleep shorts. He let his hand cup over him there, feeling the heat and hardness straining, smiling at the surprised, choked noise that was wrung from his pup when he squeezed at his cock through them.

He kept a careful eye on him, waiting to see if there was any sign of him wanting to stop, that his pup wasn't comfortable with what was happening. Barsad was already trying to help, though, his hips humping up against the heel of Bane's hand, grinding the warm cotton against it. A low, needy whine left his throat, and it wasn't long before Bane could feel the material getting damp under the pads of his fingers when he played with the tip of Barsad's cock through the taut material. He responded with excited, low whines when Bane murmured to him what a good pup he was being for him.

When he finally slipped down the hem of the shorts, Barsad's cock was flushed red, stiff against his belly. Bane squeezed around it, feeling the fever hotness when he swept his hand up its length. He finally simply wrapped his hand around him, encouraging Barsad to rut up into his hand which he did with content groans. It wasn't long until his body was arching up, his back curved sweetly as he shuddered and his orgasm shook through him, come splattering onto his bared chest, mixing with the light sheen of sweat that he had worked up.

Bane swirled his fingers through the warm mess left on Barsad's stomach, rubbing it into his skin and only getting a content noise from the motion.  
  
“Barsad?” he questioned him gently, using his name to work him out of his head space. It had the other man closing his eyes before he opened them again, refocused even though they seemed a bit bleary with contentment still.

“What is it?” His mouth fell open then stretched wide with a long yawn, his hands rubbed against the couch for a moment. Bane rubbed his cheek.

“I wanted to be sure that you were ok with what happened.”

“It was good,” Barsad promised and sat up for a moment, only to flop on his side to get more comfortable for a nap.


	8. Chapter 8

“The movies? Why, that sounds like an actual date, Blake, how will we drink beer?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Blake pushed at his shoulder and Barsad could see the little pleased look in his eye. He'd learned early on that Blake's real smiles were rare, extremely rare, so one had to search for them hidden away in his eyes. “You wanna go or not?”

“It sounds nice; I'll drive.”

“Good thing… I don't trust my car not to explode with more than one person in it.”

Frankly, neither did Barsad. He was glad that Blake most often drove around in a squad car. He had seen him in uniform now on more than one occasion, and he had to admit that it was quite an appealing sight even though he had no affinity for the police. Apparently, though, he had an affinity for one police officer.

The movie was terrible. They both decided they enjoyed it anyway, laughing at the obvious plot holes and sharing a bag of popcorn back and forth along with a kiss or two yielded from buttery lips. Back in Barsad's truck, Blake's hand was suddenly on his leg, squeezing slightly and Barsad chuckled, leaning into the touch.

“What, you think I'm going to put out over some popcorn?”

“I think you bought it, actually,” Blake breathed out when Barsad's hand touched over his, guiding him into sliding up his thigh slowly.

“It's nice,” Barsad let his hand go, sighing when the backs of Blake's fingers brushed over the crotch of his jeans, sending tendrils of warmth up his cock. He'd already told Blake upfront that he hadn't done much with guys, so he'd be doing a lot of the leading at least at first, but that he trusted him with it. It had surprised Blake, and then had him cheekily telling Barsad that he'd protect his 'virtues' and go slow with him.

But with Blake's fingers rubbing at him, making his cock surge with interest, it was clear they both felt that they had gone slow enough.

“Up for a blow job?” Blake managed to make the question seem almost casual, though the glint in his eyes was anything but.

“I will be in a moment,” he gritted out when Blake thumbed at him through his pants. “Here, though? Are we teenagers still?”

“You really wanna wait until we're home?”

It was a persuasive argument. He shook his head and glanced around.  Seeing only emptied streets this time of night was enough to convince him, enough that John's eyes lit up and he was pressed up against his body soon enough, rough scrapes of his teeth across his throat lighting up his skin as he ground the palm of his hand against his pants. Barsad impatiently worked open his pants for him, ignoring the teasing he got for it, taking matters into his own hands by wrapping Blake's hand around him.

He felt a thrill at the entire event, to be doing this out in the open, and he kept his eyes open, glancing around as Blake nuzzled his chest, looked down at what he was holding and practically growled, “God you look good; haven't seen an uncut one.”

“Glad you think—” whatever he was going to say was lost with the broad sweep of Blake's tongue against the underside of his dick. His hand flew up to grip into the cheap upholstery at the top of his seat.

“Taste good, too,” was muttered filthily against the tip of his cock before he watched how Blake's lips stretched around him, how the head of his cock disappeared into his mouth and he was surrounded by slick heat, the curl of Blake's tongue twisting at the underside of him.

“F-fuck, Blake,” He grunted the words out, head smacking back against the windowpane sharply as the throaty chuckle around his dick made a vibration run up it. His other hand latched onto Blake's head, fingers scrunching into Blake's hair, getting sticky with the sweat there, the gel that he broke up between them. Blake angled his head, sucking noisily and drawing Barsad deeper.

Barsad's head was dazed, mesmerized by the hungry look in Blake's eyes, the wet pop when he released him, the lungfuls of air that Blake sucked in as greedily as he had his cock that were assaulting his ears, the hot breath running up his shaft and making him rock his hips forward awkwardly, moaning when he slid in a sticky wet trail against Blake's cheek.

“Come on,” Blake pitched upwards suddenly, capturing his lips. He could taste the bitter salt against his tongue, moaning into his mouth as Blake's hand jerked over him. “Let's see it.” Between rough kisses, he could see how Blake's eyes were downcast, watching his cock in his hand, how it was flushed red, and he pressed his thumb against the slit of it, smearing out the sticky fluid there, teasing at his foreskin until he was gasping, pulling Blake closer and practically crushing his body to him as it felt like his orgasm punched out of him, stole up his breath as his come was caught up in Blake's hand, rubbed between his fingertips with a dirty chuckle.

“Nice.”

Barsad had moaned out his agreement, pointing out that if he was going to learn to give a blow job, Blake was going to wait until he could focus on it back at the apartment. It had earned a grumble of complaint, but Barsad promised to be a dutiful student when they got back to Blake's apartment. He would, too; according to Bane he learned new tricks quite well.

They made it to Blake's bed, where he fell back onto the faded but clean comforter. He watched as Blake was stripping out of his pants, his cock heavy and already half hard from anticipation. Barsad swallowed. He looked good, slender muscle and pale skin that he could only just make out from the moonlight, the light switch having been bypassed in their haste.

Soon Blake was lying back on the bed and Barsad found himself with a mouthful of cock, warm and with a salt tang to Blake's skin as he slid the head of him between his lips, minding the grunted out, obvious instructions not to use his teeth, choosing to make a loose fist around the base of him to keep him in place.

He couldn't say it was bad, not something he'd ever thought he'd do once upon a time, but certainly not bad. In fact, it was something he thought maybe he'd grow to like. Blake's hand was on the side of his face, thumb stroking over his puffed out skin when his cock slid against his inner cheek. The wanting, needy noises that left him between quickly panted out instructions were wonderful. He loved the way he could feel his stomach muscles jumping beneath his palm as he laid his hand flat on his belly. He let those and the noises be a guide to show him what Blake obviously liked, until Blake's hands had left him to grip at the bedding, instead.

He took that and the mumbled out cursing to be a good sign, the way John's body twisted against the bedding. He couldn't take him in very far at all, a quick experiment in it nearly gagging him before he recovered, but he could slurp over him, slide his tongue slowly down him and nuzzle at the base of his dick, rub his warming lips across the sensitive tip until a low whine of 'fuck, please stop teasing' left Blake in a quick rush. All of that he could do very well and he did, liking how Blake sounded near helpless towards the end of it, how he didn't try to take over when Barsad tormented him, only began to beg sweetly, all of his 'police officer' shed off, only sweet narrows boy left who just wanted to come so very badly.

Blake's face scrunched up, eyes clenched shut when he keened out, his come rushing across Barsad’s tongue. The sounds and the sweetly content look on Blake's face as his fingers shakily released the blankets were worth a slightly sore jaw and the bitter taste in his mouth. He went to the sink and spat it out anyway, though.

“What, you don't like how I taste?” Blake panted out, mock offended after Barsad swished and flopped down beside him, flicking his ear.

“I'm sure it's nothing personal against your come. I have not exactly tasted much semen.”

The corner of Blake's lip twitched and he slid his arm behind his head. “Wanna stay?” It was asked casually, a bit too casually, as though he was readying himself for the inevitable no. Barsad saw no reason for it to be a no. He'd learned from many a nap time now how good it felt to rest beside someone else.

“I hope you don't plan on stealing all off the covers,” he told him as he slid closer, resting his head against his shoulder. Blake was quiet for a few moments, temporarily silenced over getting what he really wanted, and then he seemed to take it as permission to play with his hair slightly, kissing the top of his head.

“I'll keep you warm.”

Perhaps they were getting closer than Barsad had intended. As the weeks passed, it became clear that this was a bit more than a little bit of fun for Blake, and he would be lying to himself if he said that was all it was for him at that point, either. He thought of Blake too much, not just about his body or a bit of fun between them. He thought about him when Blake went to walk his beat; it now sent the slightest worry though him even though he knew Blake was a more than capable officer. He enjoyed their conversations, those little smiles he could draw out of him, how he looked just after he woke up, disoriented and almost always adorably grumpy.

It presented a problem.

“He won't understand, Bane,” he repeated it, for perhaps the third time as they ate dinner together. They had crossed the bump in the road of Bane not being able to be in the apartment while Barsad got into his head space, now he only needed to be in a separate room, so on occasion he came earlier to share a meal, nothing fancy, and now they were eating plates of spaghetti while they talked about the matter at hand.

“He may not, but he does not have to, he only has to accept that it is part of you.”

“I could stop,” he said quietly, letting his fork scrape across his plate. Even voicing the thought out loud filled him with a sort of melancholy, an ache in his chest.

Bane looked up from his own plate at that, considering him seriously. “Do you want to stop? There would be no hard feelings between us. We would like to keep in touch, even if it were the case.”

He shook his head quickly, his hand gripping tighter at his fork. “No.”

“Then you will have to make a decision to either tell him or not, but if you put it off and things become more serious, it will most likely become even harder later.”

He nodded quietly at that. It was what had even brought up the conversation to begin with. He had been spending a lot of nights at Blake's, and the reverse was also true. Blake hadn't asked what he did on Wednesday nights or his weekends that he didn't spend with him, but he was waiting for the question. He was avoiding the question, actually, carefully never asking what John did while they weren't together, even though John had to spend his own free time somewhere, as well.

But then a topic had been broached that made everything come to a head, too much to ignore. The nonchalant way that Blake always broached things when he was uncertain of what the answer would be, with a shrug, a look that said it didn't matter to him, that he could take it back if it was too much trouble.

_“You know, we already live in the same apartment complex, it wouldn't be a big deal to move in together and save some money.”_

And just like that it became clear just how serious they were becoming, when Barsad found himself wanting to quickly agree but was only held back by the thought of how on earth he would explain Wednesday nights to Blake. Would he just be able to get away with disappearing almost every weekend? He should not have even felt the deep desire to accept, anyway. He enjoyed Blake, a great deal even, but he was not a lonely person and he already had him in his life, had Bane and Talia in his life now, too; there should have been no reason that moving in together felt like it would be such a wonderful idea.

But it did, and he felt guilty when he only said that he would 'think about it'. Blake had agreed quickly, of course, too quickly, and the topic hadn't been brought up again at all. Blake had taken it as a gentle no.

Especially when he would like for it to be a yes.


	9. Chapter 9

“Have you decided what you will do?” Bane asked him again after they finished their meal quietly and he helped with the dishes. Barsad found himself rolling his shoulders up into a shrug.

“I cannot 'have it all’; I should break it off with him.”

He yelped in surprise when Bane swatted the back of his head. He rubbed it and glared. “I am not your pup right now!”

“You are still behaving poorly,” Bane pointed out calmly, his thick lips quirked slightly in amusement over the indignant look Barsad was aiming at him. “You would rather break it off than just tell him.”

“He will break it off soon enough after that, anyway.”

“So you are seeking to save you both some trouble, and yourself the pain of rejection... by letting Blake think it is him who has been rejected.”

Barsad opened his mouth only to snap it back shut again with a click of his teeth. Bane was right. Was that such a bad thing, to protect himself? Perhaps not, but it was a bad thing to hurt Blake doing it, especially with no reason. He could imagine it, now. Blake would try to play it off like it was no big deal, but it would be in his eyes, the hurt, and Barsad would never see that smile in them again.

The thought made his chest ache.

“I'll talk to him soon,” he finally said quietly, sighing when Bane wrapped an arm around him, rubbing down his back. He kissed him lightly and Barsad sank into it. He and Blake had decided that they weren't going to be exclusive until things were more serious, so he had no issues with kissing Bane, with letting himself be fondled and played with while he was a pup, though he did wonder if they would be considered exclusive were he to move in with Blake. It seemed a shame, but he would be content to be Bane's puppy without any of that, too.

“Can we let that be the end of it for the evening?” he asked desperately. He could feel himself squirming under his own skin, longing for the peaceful head space that came with being Bane's pup. No worrying about things that hadn't happened, just playtime and naps and maybe something else...

When Bane nodded, Barsad was relieved. He glanced up at him, a somewhat uncertain smile curving his lips as he rested his hand against his broad chest. “I didn't have a chance to shower before you came over...” He let his voice trail off, hoping Bane would understand. He sucked in a breath, closed his eyes with Bane humming in amusement as his nose went to the crook of his neck, sniffing lightly.

“Hmm, I do smell some sweat on you. I suppose my puppy will need a bath.”

_____________________

It turned out that his puppy did _not_ enjoy baths. He had slunk around the bedroom, head poking in through the doorway as Bane ran the warm water, trying to coax him to come into the bathroom with encouraging words.

“Come on, pup, it's nice and warm. Be a good boy.”

That got one hand in past the door, and then a slow crawl forward until Bane calmly shut the door behind him, rubbing at his ears and neck until he forgot where he even was. When he slid off his knee pads, though, he snapped out of that quickly, refusing to climb up into the warm bubbly water, making a face when Bane guided his hand in to it to feel.

“You are getting a bath, spoiled thing,” he finally told him in amusement, ignoring his startled yelp when he lifted him up and lowered him carefully into the tub.

Half of the water was on the floor in minutes from the frantic splashing, and Bane was more than soaked. He had to laugh softly at himself, at Barsad's soapy body and wide eyes as he settled finally in the tub, huffing unhappily. Bane ended up simply stripping off his own damp clothing, draping it on the sink in hopes of drying it a bit. It was not as though he could simply borrow something of Barsad's. The idea of trying to stretch out one of the man’s shirts to fit him was laughable.

“So much fuss,” he clicked his tongue and watched as Barsad ducked his dripping head at the sound, having learned it to be a light reprimand. He sighed and stroked through his wet locks, smiling ruefully.

“Next time, I'm going to just strip before I get you in there,” he said more to himself as he lathered soap onto his hands and began to scrub down his pup's body. _That_ aspect of the bath was clearly not minded. Soon Barsad was squirming around happily in the tub, his slicked skin squeaking against the metal bottom of it, his eyes closing happily, finally calmed.

As he soaped through his hair, he even began to cautiously play with the bubbles, swatting groups of them as they drifted by. He had to gently stop him from making himself sick by chomping down on them. Scrubbing his nails through his scalp luckily provided a distraction.

“Have to keep this coat nice and glossy,” he teased quietly as he scooped up handfuls of water to rinse the suds out. Barsad was relieved to be allowed out, his hands sliding wetly across the floor. Bane waited a moment for the inevitable wet shake to follow. It was a rather impressive one for someone not actually born a dog, Barsad's hair flinging water back at the walls and tub.

“Now that that is out of the way,” he chuckled and began to towel him off, smiling at the groan the brisk rubdown received. He saw how his pup's cock had taken a slight interest in the activity, and dried him more carefully there.

“Horny pup tonight, I see.” Barsad's sex drive seemed to activate on a whim while he was a pup. On most nights, he had not a lick of interest in any sort of sexual play, wholeheartedly throwing himself into games of fetch and naps, instead. Other times, though, he would suddenly be more than cuddly, nosing greedily at Bane's crotch, pawing at it. After they had agreed to let Barsad explore as a pup, Bane had unzipped his pants on one such occasion, let Barsad get at the treat he wanted to explore thoroughly.

At first, he had thought Barsad would nose around and then lose interest. It would be just like his pup to tease him unwittingly in such a manner, but instead he had nuzzled against him, licked out wetly, the sweetest noises of contentment coming from his chest as he was allowed to taste and touch and smell as much as he wanted. He kept waiting for Barsad to decide to be done, but when he wasn't, when he was mouthing at him blissfully, licking up any bits of the salty trail of precome he was leaking steadily down and rooting around for more, he finally decided that his puppy would like to be taught.

His eyes had widened when he guided his cock between his lips, not deep, just enough that the wide tip of his cock was past his lips. It had been his own experience that pups weren't meant to suck, to take cock deeply in their mouths. Their forte was licking. Talia agreed, and Barsad had been so happy to do just that with the heavy weight on his tongue as Bane had reclined back on the couch, his pup kneeling contently between his legs. Bane had stroked the base of his cock until he had spilled into his pup’s mouth, earning a wide eyed look then contently licked lips.

Now, he gave Barsad a light stroke there. His pup huffed happily, trying to rut against his hand for more of the sensation.

“Good boy, let’s get out of the bathroom, first.” He ruffed his hair, ignoring the plaintive look that plainly said that Barsad didn't want to wait at all when he could already see Bane's bare body. He followed Bane into the bedroom, though, and Bane patted the bed until he scrambled up onto it, deciding to forgo his knee pads for the remainder of the evening by keeping him up off of the hardwood.

He went to the second drawer of the beat up little nightstand by the bed, pulling out the bottle of lubricant he'd bought for Barsad, much to the other man's embarrassment and curiosity when Bane had explained that it was one better suited for penetration than what Barsad was likely using for his dick. He had stored it in the table anyway, though, and showed Bane where it was, should he feel the desire to use it. He wasn't surprised when the seal on the bottle was unbroken; as far as he knew, Barsad hadn't gone quite that way with Blake, though the other man had admitted that Blake had taken him back to his apartment several times now and ridden him to oblivion.

Barsad had also admitted privately that he was a little nervous to return the favor, that if Bane wanted to play there with him in his pup space then, well, maybe it would make him feel more comfortable for Blake. Bane resisted pointing out that it was not exactly in his job description as puppy sitter to open him up for his boyfriend. He did actually want the task, after all, and didn't want to dissuade Barsad from asking. The man was shyer than he ever cared to admit when it came to moments that left him vulnerable.

His pup played around on the bed a bit, nosing against the pillows and giving the comforter a bite or two until Bane sat down on it with him. It was obvious he was in a playful mood, and he patted his flank, let him roll around onto his back to get some belly rubs, squirming his still damp body against the blankets, his hair licking out in every which way until Bane fixed it a bit with his fingers.


	10. Chapter 10

When he settled down, clearly calmed from his bath, Bane coaxed him into rolling onto his belly, scooting him onto his knees so his chest was flat to the bed, his chin cushioned against a pillow as he made a curious noise. He ran his nails slowly along his spine and watched how the muscles in his shoulders loosened, how he tried to follow those fingers by raising his hips up until his bottom was higher in the air, his thighs parted enough that his cheeks were spread and Bane was treated to the view.

“Good pup,” he murmured several times, whenever there was a twitch in Barsad's back muscles the tender words eased it out. “Stay” was listened to just as well when Barsad shifted, looked like he was about to roll over instead of staying on his knees. When he had lulled him into a comfortable sort of relaxed state, he patted over his ass, opening up the lubricant and letting it warm on his fingers before he touched the slicked digits between his cheeks, sliding them down slowly to leave a warm slick trail as he touched over his hole.

He waited for his reaction cautiously, anticipating perhaps a yelp, or for Barsad to try and scamper away, to give him a confused or wounded look. He didn't expect for his pup to wriggle for him, his fingers digging into the bedding just at the feeling of Bane's fingers slowly tracing a circle along the sensitive furls of skin, nor the way his hips went up higher into a content submission pose. He rewarded the good behavior by rubbing more, working the lubricant along his opening, feeling it twitch against his fingers and listening to the soft breathy noises that were leaving Barsad's lips and puffing against the pillow.

“Someone likes that,” he teased softly, getting an answering whine, a confused noise when he pressed with the pads of his fingers. There was resistance before one of his fingers slowly sunk in past Barsad's opening, and Barsad jerked a little before Bane rubbed his hip.

“I've got you,” he promised as his finger was clenched around. When he slowly rubbed into him, he could feel the fine tremor of Barsad's body under his hand. When he worked in a second, Barsad was panting out. He yipped when Bane crooked his fingers and ran them across the sensitive nerves inside, delighting quietly in how his pups entire body seemed to still in shock at it until the most wanton of groans rumbled out of him.

It was a treat for his pup to reach between his widespread legs and stroke over his cock slowly as he thrust his fingers. He could feel how much Barsad was warming to the touch, his hole stretching open and slick inside with lubricant, his cock heavy in Bane’s hand as he whined, clearly torn between trying to get more attention on it and all of the strange wonderful new feelings inside. His poor pup was on overload, and he only had intentions of making it worse.

He let go of his cock, ignoring the protesting whine. “Just this for now, pup,” he told him as he gave a particularly firm push with his fingers, making his pup arch under him. “Let’s get you used to this.”

Barsad was more than 'used to it' by the time he was done playing with him. His entire body was shivering, his lithe frame wracked with delicate spasms. Bane alternated between too much friction and too little, too fast and too slow; his poor pup was being driven crazy with the sensations. Bane praised him for each whimper he gave up, each time his hips shook with strain, each hesitant little push his puppy gave, working himself back onto Bane's fingers obediently with some tender encouragement.

He chuckled when his clever pup had managed to squirm about enough that his cock was just brushing against the blankets. It seemed harmless enough not to discourage, and the low, frustrated whimpers from too little friction, from his cock smearing wetly against them, were entertaining. When his pup sounded near heartbroken, he finally relented, moving over him so that his body was pressed to his back, his fingers buried inside of him still as he crushed him to the bed. His own cock was hard against the back of Barsad's thigh as he kissed gently at the side of his cheek.

“Barsad?” he whispered the name gently, wanting to pull him out of his head space as little as possible, but also wanting to be sure he feeling ok with how things were progressing. Bane felt him still under him, his soft pants tapering off as he floated slightly to the surface, making a questioning noise.

“I wanted to make sure you were feeling comfortable.” He nuzzled slightly against his neck to soothe, sensing how even this was frustrating Barsad who was so worked up. His pup didn't like being pulled out of his head space until playtime was over, but they had found it needed on a few occasions and so it was tolerated.

“Wanna come, if that's what you mean,” Barsad finally mumbled out, words clearly trying to twist up on his tongue. Bane smiled slightly in response to it, knowing Barsad could feel it against his cheek when he squirmed irritably under him.

“What I mean is, should we go further? I saw contraceptives in that drawer beside the lubricant.”

That gave Barsad pause, and Bane could feel him tighten around his fingers, his lips licked over uncertainly. “If I do not wish... that… do we need to stop?”

“I would much rather we didn't,” Bane wiggled his fingers slightly, pulling a gasp out of Barsad. “I would like to see you come for me, and I would be happy to slide between your thighs instead, if it is too much.”

Barsad nodded, his head rubbing into the pillow. “I would like that.”

“Are you saving it for John?” Bane couldn't help but ask, not at all offended. The slight pinking to the tips of Barsad's ears, how he made a disgruntled noise and hid his face in the pillow, told him everything he needed to know.

“That's very sweet.”

“Shut up,” Barsad gritted out, arching back suddenly when Bane pressed his fingers firmly against his prostrate. “Tormentor!” he hissed out, tapering off into a low groan when Bane rubbed a slow circle there. Bane kissed the crook of his neck, shushing him gently. It took some slow, soothing strokes down his side, gentle encouragements of what a good puppy he was, to let Barsad sink down again. It was the closest they ever got to Barsad being able to go into his head space for him, and it was a display of trust that Bane treasured.

It was a slight disappointment to know he wouldn't be inside of his pup, but he was more than pleased to work with what he had. He lifted back onto his knees, settling behind him though he knew Barsad was enjoying being crushed down onto the bedding. He needed to be able to have better access.

It wasn't hard to work in a third finger, and he watched how Barsad stretched around his fingers, pistoning them into him until he was yipping again, back so deep into his head space that it was as if he never left. Bane ran his hand along his ass, massaging roughly into the muscle there, the smooth skin.

The sharp swat there drew a confused moan from Barsad, recognizing swats were usually when he was naughty, but his body only acknowledged it as a pleasure when it was coupled with his over-sensitized skin. The gentle 'good pup' Bane all but cooed out soothed him further, had him only wriggling his bottom for the next smack, rubbing his face into the pillow contently.  It was only a few swats more before his pup was arching up into his hand, wriggling happily, his skin slowly flushing red and rosy under his palm.

It was tempting to spend the rest of the night torturing his puppy, showing him just how long he could be kept right there, open and played with and wanting all of the attention he could give, but he had been such a good boy that it seemed wrong to deny him any further, at least not for their first time with this kind of play.

“Who is my good pup?” he asked softly as he reached under him to pet the soft skin of his inner thighs, feeling how they were shaking for him. Barsad sucked in shaky breaths, yipping out softly in affirmation when Bane palmed over the head of his cock, gathering up the slick fluid building there and wrapping his hand around his cock. His pup was so close—the slow, long pulls along him, the relentless thrust of his fingers—he was about to burst, and Bane could hear it in each breathy whine that left him.

“That's right, you're my good pup,” he assured him quietly, firmly. It was all that was needed and Barsad jerked in his hands, a built-up cry bubbling out of him, his orgasm making his body go rigid and tight as Bane jerked his cock, whispered encouragements as he felt him pulsing into his hand. By the time Bane had drawn out his orgasm as long as he could, Barsad's sides were heaving.

Bane rubbed his back, letting go of him to kiss his cheek and wash his hands in the bathroom while his pup recovered a little from his endorphins high. His own cock was rigid, aching for some form of relief. It was tempting to simply stroke himself off, his pup having just given him more than enough visual imagery for the task, but he knew that with a little patience the wait would be much more pleasant.

When he rolled his pup over, his shoulders were grabbed at and he smiled when Barsad tugged at him insistently until he leaned over him, chuckling when Barsad happily delivered two delicate licks to his cheek. He kissed his pup’s in return, then over his lips gently, watching how he closed his eyes happily, settling into the bed more, clearly with the notion that it was nap time.

Selfish pup. He ruffed through his hair, rousing him, getting a sleepy eyed look when he climbed onto the bed again, parted his pup's thighs and pet there gently. It drew his attention and soon his mouth was open in a soft pant, the blue in his eyes almost invisible, they were dropped so low.

“I see I have your interest,” he teased softly, picking up the lubricant again. Now, though, he poured out a generous amount into his palm, heating it by rubbing his hands together, warming it before he essentially oiled his puppy's thighs up for himself. He worked slowly, patting, massaging, stroking his hands slowly up the inner creases of his pups thighs, enjoying the slow glide up his pup's pale skin and listening to his content groans over the unexpected massage.

When he was near glistening for him, he stroked the remainder of what was on his hands onto his own cock, just the touch reminded him of how long he had neglected himself to see to his pup, sending a new desire rushing through him at the sight of him splayed out before him. Barsad hummed happily when he patted his thighs, letting his body be moved as Bane wished. Bane soon had him with his thighs together, his legs up in the air, resting against his own chest as he stroked down his calves, pressing a kiss to his ankle.

Even tired, his pup loved the attention, sighing out when Bane slid between his slippery thighs with a low growl of pleasure. His skin was warm around him and his thighs squeezed together, tensed, making the pleasure burn through Bane's body. He praised his puppy's cleverness, caressing down his legs slowly as he began to thrust his hips, fucking into the perfectly slicked channel that his pup's thighs made for him.

Barsad sighed and closed his eyes, relishing all of the petting to his legs, content to let himself be used even as his own cock was spent. Bane watched him, rocked his hips slowly and simply enjoyed the sensations, the feel of his pup until he was groaning, his head dipping down as he spilled between his thighs.

He laughed softly when his pup couldn't resist touching at the warm come, licking it off of his fingertips. “Spoiled pup.” It only got a wriggle until he cleaned them both up more and pulled him close to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Blake's fingers wriggled playfully against his hip as he pulled him closer on the couch. His voice was quieter though, perhaps a touch less certain. "Everything ok?"

Barsad knew he had been quieter. He had been trying to gather his nerve the entire evening, but he hadn't thought that it was noticeable. Perhaps it wasn't and Blake had just come to know him too well too quickly. Saying no now would only prolong the inevitable. He was certain that he would never quite feel 'ready' for this, anyway.

"I don't like to go in for clichés... But we should talk," Barsad said finally, taking Blake's hand into his own, feeling his squeezed uncertainly. He told himself that this could be done, discussed. That it was like lining up a target. He just had to take a breath, find his mark, and let go. He took a slow breath before he turned to face Blake. Blake who was already pulling his hand away, his position more hedged in on himself.

“Alright,” he made a forced, amused noise, “what did I do?”

Barsad smiled at that, felt the uncertainty when he leaned close and kissed him lightly, but it was returned with a hopeful edge to it. “It it nothing you have done. It is simply—” he struggled to find the right words. He had not been hiding, not purposefully. It had truly not been something to bring up before. “There's something about me that you don't know, that it would be wrong to keep from you if we were to continue how we are,” John opened his mouth to speak and Barsad quickly continued, “which is something I would like to do, Blake, even if I am making you nervous.”

“You're making me really nervous,” Blake blurted out. “It can't be that bad, right?”

Barsad sighed, clenching his hands together for a moment and studying them. He didn't want to draw it out and worry him further, but how to even explain it?

“There is something I do, that isn't considered normal by any standard,” he shook his head when Blake quirked an eyebrow, wanting to get it out quickly, “but not something I am alone in. On Wednesday evenings, and often on the weekends, I have a friend over or I go to his home where I... submit myself to him, like a puppy.”

There was the incredulous stare he was expecting, the trying to grasp what exactly Barsad had divulged. Finally Blake rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. “I don't—I don't get it,” he laughed nervously, “are you saying you're into some kinky BDSM shit?”

Barsad barely held back the flinch. “It's not BDSM. It's called puppy play.”

Blake laughed again and shook his head, hopping up from the couch, surely a bad sign given how he was pacing the short span of floorboard in an instant. “So wait, what? You just have this guy come over and put you on your knees to fuck you like a dog? I mean, I know we said we weren't exclusive, but, fuck, Barsad. I thought you would at least _say_ something.”

“I'm saying something _now,_ ” he gritted out, trying to be calm. “It's not—He was here first,” Barsad defended, and perhaps that was the wrong wording entirely, especially with how Blake went still, his eyes narrowing cautiously.

“I thought you said I was the first guy you've been with. Was that just a line?”

“NO, Blake. You are the first man I have been in a relationship with—”

“So you just fuck other guys,” Blake interrupted, hands clenched tightly, “but like a dog.”

He felt his temper flare and he stood up quickly from the couch. “I am not a _dog_. It is a different thing entirely, and I don't just 'fuck other guys', Bane took care of me for some time without anything sexual involved, it was only after we spent time together that I realized I would not mind being with a man, that I might like it. You have him to thank for my ever realizing my interest in you.”

“I'll be sure to thank the asshole,” Blake spat out bitterly.

“That's not what I meant, Blake. Yes, there are sexual aspects to our relationship, but we agreed from the start not to be exclusive, and that is only a small part of it.”

“Fine,” it was gritted out, Barsad could see how tightly clenched his teeth were, “what else is there?”

The question surprised him and he couldn't help but feel a slight flush to his throat, the embarrassment and shame that he'd been fighting back the entire night. “I don't think you need to know.”

“No, no, you brought this up, you wanted to talk about it. So let’s talk about it.”

“Not if you're going to mock me.”

“I'm not mocking anyone!” Blake's voice rose. “I'm just trying to understand what the hell this IS.”

“It is a need that I feel. Something that makes me feel better, a habit, like your cigarettes.”

“So you can quit.”

Barsad's stomach lurched at the thought and he shook his head quickly. “I can, but I won't, because it makes me feel at ease.”

“I don't fucking make you feel at ease? We could do it, couldn't we? You could tell that other guy to fuck off and I'll do what you need. Just tell me what you have to do, fuck.” Blake's voice sounded rougher, strained. “I can be enough, can't I?”

“That's not fair, Blake.”

“Like fuck it isn't!”

“It _isn't._ I would be happy to talk to Bane, to end the sexual aspect of our relationship if it makes you uncomfortable, but that is only a small part of it.” He struggled to find words to explain, to admit. “I was... not ok for a long while, Blake. I was unhappy... lonely, and I could not even admit those things to myself. Bane helps quiet my head. What I do with him makes me able to be with you. It makes me comfortable.”

Blake's face was pained at that, and Barsad hated it, hated the insecurity there when he could not fix it, could not lie to make it right. “Why can't I be your comfortable?”

“I get different things from you both, Blake; I give you both different things in return. I can't expect those things from you. That's not who you are, and I can't ask you to pretend to be... just like I won't let you try to change this about me. It wouldn't be right for either of us.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Blake said roughly, already halfway to the door, snatching his jacket off of the corner table.

“Blake—” he started to call out after him, but the door was already being slammed in his face.

 

“And he left without another word?” Bane asked quietly. His hands felt good rubbing against his scalp even though tension was still roiling through his body. Bane had been surprised to see him not in his head space when he walked through the door that evening, but he couldn't bring himself to it, not after the fight. It had been two days and not a word from Blake. He was mysteriously absent from his class, as well.

He had needed someone to talk to, and he hadn't wanted to do it over the phone, so he had waited. It felt no better now, though, and he felt childish at the tightness in his chest as he told Bane about the incident.

“You were right, it was better this way, to get it over with now,” his words sounded hollow even in his own ears, and he sighed when Bane pulled him closer. When he had started the story, Bane had wordlessly pulled him into his lap, and now he found himself plastered against him tightly, his head having been guided to rest against the crook of his neck while he was held.

“Perhaps he will come to his senses.”

“Unlikely. I'm sorry, you may leave, of course. I didn't mean to ruin your evening.” He slid up a bit only to be pulled back down firmly enough that he gave in and let himself sink into Bane's warm embrace.

“Hush. You should have a sense by now that you are more than just a pup and some playtime to me, Barsad. You are dear to me, friend, and to Talia, as well. We considered snatching you up for ourselves, until your aspiring detective made a move.”

He made a surprised noise at that. Bane had casually mentioned that, even beyond puppy play, Talia and Bane considered themselves to be 'very bad at monogamy', but he did not know they had considered such a thing. It was bittersweet news at the moment, and Bane was clearly not mentioning it to entice while he was feeling melancholy, only assure him of their relationship.

“Would you like me to spend the night?”

He did not even have to hesitate, nodding quickly. He hated vulnerability, had fought appearing weak or small in the army countless times, but spending so long as Bane's pup meant that even not in his head space he felt safe with him, safe to not hide anything. Bane spent the evening on the couch with him, drawing quiet conversation, even managing to pull a small smile from Barsad eventually before he declared it to be bedtime. Then he tucked up with him under the blankets, rubbing the small of his back to chase away the darker dreams and bouts with insomnia that had plagued him the past few nights.

By Friday, he felt listless. Work was over, and he knew that he had been invited to spend the weekend with Talia and Bane, an obvious invitation to distract him from himself at the moment, but he had not quite made the decision to make the drive there. Instead, he found himself lying out on the couch quietly, not upset, more wistful.

The phone rang and he stretched his hand out to the coffee table to snatch it up, to tell Bane he was still thinking about it and to tease him about being so pushy.

Except the caller ID said John Blake.

He stilled his finger over the screen. John did not seem like a spiteful person, like he would call now just to spew at him, even though that was Barsad's first thought. Perhaps he had left something important. They lived close by, but still John's things had a way of making their way to his apartment and vice versa. Barsad had merely decided to do without the clothing and a couple of other items that were tucked away in a drawer at Blake's.

He relented and thumbed over the answer bar. “Blake?”

“I'm sorry,” was blurted out quickly, as though Blake was afraid he would hang up before it could be gotten out.

“You're sorry?” he questioned, surprised, cautious. “And what are you sorry for?” He was honestly not trying to push, but he was uncertain which aspect of their breakup Blake was sorry for enough to call about it.

“Jesus, I'm sorry for how I acted, ok? How I left. I shouldn't—I should have stayed, and I shouldn't have been like I was, just, look, it's weird, ok? Can we just—can we just admit that it's kind of weird?”

Barsad laughed quietly, feeling a dull ache in his chest; he had missed him. “Yes, Blake, it is a little weird.”

“Ok, good, I just... I was looking up things about it, so I could understand, and well, I still don't understand it, but it makes you feel good, right? Gives you an outlet, I guess?”

“It is... more than that, but an outlet would be a good way to begin to describe it, I suppose.”

There was a long pause over the line and Barsad could practically hear the way Blake worried at his own lip, how his hand was probably restlessly being rubbed over the back of his neck.

His words came out in a rush, a confession. “I go to anger management classes... Like, a lot of them, therapy. When I'm not with you or on the job, that's basically where I'm at. It's why I never ask where you're at, so you don't ask where I'm at. I don't like telling people about it, or talking about it,” he added more quietly, “it scares them off...” His voice trailed off and it was barely a whisper then. “How could I expect you to give up something that's like therapy to you and just be with me, when I could never do it, either?”

The news surprised him. “Are you prone to violence?” Barsad couldn't help but ask quietly as he tried to process what was happening, this new information, already feeling as if Blake could not be, truly. He might have noticed incidents where the man seemed like he was trying to keep a lid on something, but the idea of him lashing out at a person physically just didn't seem like him, at all. He knew of Blake's past, his upbringing, it had slipped out one night and he knew Blake did not want any sympathy for it, but he could easily guess how it had led him down a path of anger.

“Only against walls.” Blake's voice was self deprecating. “I've never, WOULD never hurt someone with it. I know that about myself. I just... I just get really angry sometimes, and I feel like I can't always control it. Therapy helps, it helps me balance, is all I'm trying to say... So I guess I understand why you would need something to help you balance.”

“Sounds like you could use it, too,” Barsad couldn't help but tease, and it got a sharp laugh.

“Asshole,” he stopped and added more quietly, “I missed you. I _really_ missed you, and I don't want this to be over.”  
  
Barsad's grip tightened on his phone at the soft crack in Blake's voice. “I missed you, too. Come see me? We can talk about it more.”

  
That drew a small rueful laugh. “I'm not sure I want to talk about it more, but I guess we kind of have to. I'll be over.”


	12. Chapter 12

John was at his door a few minutes later. They watched each other at the doorway in an awkward silence for a moment. John's jaw was clenched visibly and finally Barsad cupped his cheek to make him ease it if nothing else. It had John shaking his head at himself, and after a moment tugging Barsad in for a hug. Barsad slid his hand up his back and coaxed him into the living room with a bite to his lip and playful kisses until they fell back on the couch, John crowding over him.

  
“Fuck, do we need to talk first?” John groaned out against his throat, the vibration making him hook his leg around his thigh.

  
“If you try, I will shoot you,” Barsad promised him with a throaty chuckle, pulling him down to kiss.

  
It didn't take long for John to yank his pants off, impatiently helping to pull Barsad's open so that he could straddle up against him, tilting his hips, fumbling around impatiently until he had their cocks in his hand,  the other braced on Barsad's chest as he stroked them quickly, gracelessly.

Barsad hissed out, feeling a mix of pain and pleasure shuddering through him when Blake's calloused thumb caught the edge of his foreskin. A shushing noise and an apology was muttered softly as Blake's head dipped down, a ragged pant leaving him quickly, the relief of a week of silent, uncertain tension making the pleasure come faster. His fingers quickened and heat rushed down through Barsad's cock. He groaned out and arched up into the slow, sliding rock that Blake had started, their cocks slipping against one another.

When he raised his hips off the couch, he was lifting Blake up a bit in the process, but it didn't slow their pace, only made Blake's breathing quicken further. The rough drag of his hand stroking their cocks had him gasping, torn between arching up more and considering pausing to get them some lube, but they were both racing towards the finish too quickly and the chafing was more than worth it to hear more of the little whimpers leaving Blake's throat, to feel how his thighs were trembling around his own when he came, come leaking sticky and hot between them, easing the rub, making him work them both faster, milking out his own orgasm as Barsad shuddered through his.

Barsad caught his wrist as it descended towards him, letting out a breathless laugh. “Do not even think of rubbing that on my shirt.” Blake only smirked slightly at being caught in the act and brought his hand up instead, his tongue sliding up through the mess of come on his palm and making Barsad's breath catch.

“Filthy,” he admonished, pulling him down for a kiss mixed with the bitterness of their come. He had grown used to the taste; Bane had certainly been feeding it to him as a pup enough. They cleaned up haphazardly with some tissues left by the couch, and Blake ended up settled on top of him. Barsad didn't mind the weight, even the way Blake's elbow was digging into his side. It was a reminder that he was back and perhaps not giving up on him even though what he did was 'kind of weird'.

“You like him?” It was asked more quietly when he laced his fingers with Blake's. He kissed the top of his head when he squeezed at his hand.

“I do. He is a good man, like you. You could meet him, if you’d like.”

Blake shook his head quickly. “I don't really need to meet the competition.” It was said with a teasing edge to it, though, and he laughed dryly when Barsad swatted over his ass. “Fine, I don't need to meet your master.”

“We prefer the word handler,” Barsad pointed out, and Blake kissed his chest in apology, their legs managing to twine together.

“Alright; handler.”

“Are you really going to be ok with this?”

“I'd like to be. I'm really going to try, because I don't want to give this up,” Blake admitted, “just let me know if I'm being an asshole.”

“Rest assured that I will do just that.”

“Asshole.”

“Would you like me to take sex off of the table with Bane?”

Blake pulled his hand away at that and sat up, his hands already picking at his nails. “Is that bad? I wanted us to be open. I'm not good at commitment, but knowing you're with this guy I've never met and that I don't really _want_ to meet, it just... It sounds selfish.”

“You're allowed to be just a little selfish in a relationship, Blake,” Barsad teased him. “I would not mind, and Bane would understand, as well.”

“Maybe for now, at least? I'm still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. I might be better with it later.”

“I expect to be reciprocated for it. No running off with another beautiful officer.”

“Or any snarky little puppy dogs.” Blake smirked then nearly squawked with indignation when Barsad smacked him upside his head.

“I suppose we will consider ourselves exclusive for the time being, then.”

It felt good to not have to feel like he was hiding something from Blake anymore. It was simply agreed that Wednesdays were their personal nights. Now, with it more in the open, they discussed weekends and spent more of them together. Blake had a standing open invitation to join him at Bane and Talia's home, but he had informed Barsad that he didn't think he'd ever be quite ready for that.

Bane had been wonderfully understanding. He had told Barsad without hesitation just how much he would miss playing with his puppy in such a way, but that he understood and would keep his pup side from misbehaving. It was harder than it sounded. When he was in his head space and living in the moment, he knew exactly how Bane felt, how much he liked to lick him up and taste him, and he didn't understand why Bane would gently guide his head away from his crotch, why when he dropped down onto his chest and wriggled his bottom submissively in the air it was ignored and he wasn't played with like he liked. Bane was a good distracter, though, tussling with him, bringing out a new ball, and in one case distracting him completely with a careful game of tug of war with a soft terrycloth.

 

_____________________

 

It wasn't his fault that he'd forgotten his paperwork that morning when he'd left for his shift. That's what Blake told himself. It had just slipped his mind when he'd kissed Barsad goodbye, smacked his ass when he just got a sleepy grunt instead of an actual farewell. Anyone could forget something that earlier in the morning, especially when he'd stayed up a bit later than usual filling it out and setting it on the nightstand just before tucking in with Barsad.

It wasn't like it was on _purpose._ It wasn't like he'd left if there when he needed it first thing Thursday morning just so he'd have a reason to have to come and see. He didn't want to see. He'd told Barsad he didn't want to see. So this was really unfortunate.

Blake decided it was much harder to lie to himself when he knew just how full of shit he actually was. It had taken him a while to get his shit together after Barsad had dropped the whole puppy-play bomb on him, a long while, some damaged knuckles, and a guarantee that he was never, ever getting his security deposit back. Therapy had only helped somewhat, and finally he'd ended up painstakingly researching the whole damn thing on his own, asking himself the entire time if Barsad was really worth all of that.

And he always came back with the answer that yes, he was. Blake was honest. He really didn't get it, what the possible appeal could be in crawling around and barking like a dog, but Barsad seemed to like it, seemed to need it, and maybe that was what made him so curious. Maybe that was what had made him glance at those papers on the bedside table and shut the door anyway.

But now it left him standing in the hall, staring down the long passage to Barsad's door and working up the nerve to go. He had to. He really actually did need that paperwork, he'd get in trouble without it at the precinct. That was the last thing he needed as he tried to make detective, when he was so close he could almost grasp it with his fingertips and the other older guys would do everything they damn well could to keep the 'rookie' from getting to it before them.

It wasn't a far walk, but it felt like the hallway floor was growing under his feet as he made his way to the door. He didn't even know if Bane would be there yet. He supposed he had to be, he supposed he should knock rather than just go in with the key Barsad had given him. He wondered if Bane would even answer the door.

He needed the paperwork. He fucking hated himself for being clever enough to make himself go through with things. He wrapped his knuckles across the door three times. His eyes rose at the sound of a surprised yip. It had to be Barsad, and his stomach clenched; just hearing that made everything solidify, made everything that he had said he didn't want to see so he didn't have to think about it completely real. He wanted to go, fuck the paperwork, but he felt glued to the spot.

There were footsteps, the sound of scampering on the floor, and Blake's heart rate began to pick up when he could just tell that he was being studied through the peephole of the door.

“...Is this John Blake that I am seeing?” The voice was muffled through the door but unmistakably deep sounding, lilting still, though. Maybe it was just the door, but it didn't sound like any sort of voice Blake had heard before.

“It's just Blake,” he said quickly before he nodded, knowing it could be seen, and clearing his throat. “Yeah, it's me. I uhm, I forgot some paperwork. I just need to pick it up and I can go.”

At his voice, he heard a soft growl and an even softer shushing noise. Great, Barsad didn't like him as a pup. That wasn't offensive at all.

“Would you like me to bring it to you? Or would you perhaps prefer to come inside?” There was a knowing tone to his voice, and fuck Bane for sounding like he didn't believe Blake's reason for even one red hot second. Asshole.

“If I'm not interrupting something I could just come in to get them.” He held back a wince; it sounded lame even when it left his mouth.

“You are always welcome, Blake,” was Bane's response. There was the sound of the latch, of Bane speaking quietly, his voice changing and becoming softer, more reassuring as the door was opened just a bit, enough for Blake to slip in and not give any random neighbors an eyeful of whatever was inside.


	13. Chapter 13

Holy fuck, did Bane have to be so huge? It was the very first thing he noticed, amazingly enough. Huge and hot, and suddenly Blake felt like he had the body security of a scraggly teenager because he worked out, kept fit, it was part of the job, but he would never in his life have the meat that Bane had to him. It distracted him completely, enough that for a second he almost missed a second low growl. He looked down finally, though, and, well, there was Barsad, stripped down to his favorite gray boxer-briefs and peeking out with narrowed blues from behind Bane's massive thigh.

Bane's eyes were on him, too, and John could see the protective, cautious streak in them which would make him feel defensive if he didn't somewhat understand that it was a little deserved after Blake's initial reaction to the entire thing.

“It's like he doesn't recognize me.” It was the only thing he could think to say, and he hated how it almost sounded petulant. He didn't mean it like that. He really didn't. It just, well, it hurt not to even be recognized at all. Maybe it was the right thing to say after all, though, because Bane's eyes softened slightly and he crouched down, running his fingers through Barsad's hair, silencing the cautious grumble in his chest.

“He is nervous. You're the first visitor he's had like this in his 'territory'.  It is not that he doesn't recognize you, per se. He knows your face, he just does not know how you fit into the picture right now.”

“That makes two of us,” he muttered to himself. This was surreal. Barsad didn't seem like himself, at all. He'd read about being in a zone or space in his head or whatever, but he didn't know it could be so strong. He didn't know what to do about it.

Bane looked up at him for a moment before he reached into his pocket then held out his hand. “Come here.”

Blake glanced down at his open palm and in spite of everything he had to laugh a little when he saw the Hershey’s kiss in Bane's outstretched hand. “We're bribing him, then?”

Bane had nice lips, soft, wide; Blake couldn't help but notice them when he suddenly smiled slightly, almost mischievously. “We are not above a bit of bribery.”

“I thought chocolate was bad for dogs,” he couldn't help but return when he took the piece of candy. Barsad's eyes were on him suddenly as he unwrapped the little treat. His pink tongue peeked out slowly to lick over his lips in anticipation.

“He is a pup, not a dog, and this pup only has to avoid peanut butter.”

“Right.” His allergy. For some reason, Bane knowing that made him feel better. He started to crouch then thought better of it and got down to kneel on the floor, holding the small chocolate between his fingers. “Want this then, Bar—”

He started when Bane's fingers went over his lips, not roughly, a gentle push to cut him off. “Not his name. It draws him out. It's a way for him to be able to separate himself.”

Oh. He tilted his head slightly, rubbing over his mouth when Bane withdrew his fingers, trying not to think about how warm they were. “What do I call him, then?”

“Pup, puppy, good boy,” Bane rubbed the back of Barsad's neck slowly, “he enjoys them all.”

Blake cleared his throat and nodded. “Alright, do you want this... pup?”

Barsad clearly did. He eyed the treat warily, and Blake almost laughed at how it actually made him look more like himself. “Come on, it's ok. Come here,” he coaxed, not getting told otherwise from Bane so figuring it was ok. It took a minute, a gentle prod on the back and an encouragement from Bane, but Barsad finally crawled over to him, sniffing his hand before he delicately caught the treat up in his teeth, closing his eyes as he savored the bit of chocolate.

Apparently that made them best buddies, because Barsad was sniffing his hand after, nuzzling it, and Blake looked up at Bane as he stood over them watching, feeling more than a little out of his league.

“I kind of don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing right now.”

“You are doing fine. He is a pup; all you must do is treat him like one.”

So that was how he ended up petting through his boyfriend's hair. It wasn't like he hadn't touched it before, gripped it tight, run a hand over it, but this was different. This felt different, and Barsad was different for it, craning his neck happily, a content lidded look to his face as he leaned his body against Blake’s.

“Probably the wrong time to mention I'm more of a cat person,” he pointed out ruefully.

“Is it as strange as you imagined?”

  
“Stranger, but… it's not creeping me out as much as I thought it might,” he spoke quietly. When Barsad tilted his head at him curiously, he couldn't help tilting his in return to mimic him, a small grin pulling at his lips at the indignant huff his action got.

“You are welcome to spend the evening. I am certain he would not mind, if it would help you understand more.”

He swallowed a little and found himself nodding slowly. He did want to understand, for Barsad.

It was strange to watch him scamper across the hardwood floor, but he was glad to see his knees were protected from it. He was every bit a pup as Blake could have imagined. When Bane produced a ball, he practically pranced around on his hands and feet at the sight of it. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging, as it was his hips did the job for him, and several light tosses in Blake was being handed the ball, Barsad looking at him impatiently when he hesitated and threw it.

“This is crazy,” he said quietly as he watched Barsad pounce onto the ball.

“For you, perhaps.”

“But not for him, yeah, I get that. What do you get out of it, though?”

“Him. I enjoy taking care of him, just as I enjoy being in his place when Talia takes care of me.”

“You do _this,_ too?” He found that even harder to believe.

“There is video online,” Bane pointed out casually, his voice teasing. “I believe your boyfriend still has the subscription to our website.”

“That kinky shit,” He huffed out a sharp laugh, patting Barsad on the head, finding it easier to ruffle through his hair as he panted lightly from all of the scampering around. He absolutely did not talk a little bit of baby talk to him and watch how he squirmed in excitement over it, eyes lighting up at the gently cooed out words. Blake yelped when Barsad jumped up onto him as he crouched, the sudden weight throwing him off balance and knocking him to the floor. He grunted when Barsad's hands dug into his shoulders, when he could swear he saw a glint of smugness in his eyes over it before he dipped down to lick his cheek.

Barsad yipped when Bane growled lightly, grabbed his shoulders and tugged him off of Blake. Blake had to laugh softly when Bane wrestled Barsad onto the floor, Barsad's arms going out everywhere and pushing at Bane, caught between trying to roll with him and trying to scamper off to bark excitedly.

Barsad looked half excited half exhausted before he finally seemed to give up and accept Bane's body weight pinning him down onto the floorboards. He huffed out indignantly and Blake felt a curl of something, jealousy maybe—for his sanity's sake he was going to say jealousy—in his stomach when Bane gently kissed Barsad's cheek, rubbing his hands slowly down his sides for a few moments before he let him up, guiding him over onto the couch with them. Barsad was happy to settle between them, his legs sprawled out lazily across Blake's lap, his toes scrunching into his thigh while his head pillowed against Bane's.

“You watch TV with him?” Blake asked when Bane flicked it on. Bane was carding his hands through Barsad's hair while Barsad's eyes closed slowly, a content moan leaving his lips.

“It's good background noise for when he needs a bit of downtime. Instead of watching, he tends to listen to the noises.”

Which he guessed was why Bane flipped over to cartoons. Either that or the big guy happened to like Scooby Doo. Blake could admit to being a little partial to it himself, but he didn't exactly focus on it. Instead, he found himself stealing glances at Bane, noticing him much more now that Barsad was settled and not the main focus. When Barsad had called him his 'handler', he had honestly had no idea what to expect, maybe some guy in leather pants with a whip, giving orders and demands for Barsad to carry out like a slave or something, not sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, not gentle commands and sweet encouragements and fetch.

It was making it a lot harder to think it was weird—well, it was still weird, but maybe an understandable weird. Who wouldn’t like all of that attention, getting touched and coddled a bit? It was beginning to seem more and more like a logical outlet for Barsad. It wasn’t like he didn't notice that Barsad had his own issues. John wasn't entirely in his own little world all of the time. In fact, he was very much snapped out of that little world when he felt Bane's large hand covering his, warm and a little rough. He met his eyes, unsure of what the hell Bane was up to.

“You have very nice hands,” Bane observed, running down the span of it with his own fingers, “both of you do.”

“Are you hitting on me with my boyfriend in your lap?” Blake's brow quirked up as he clenched his hand before stretching his fingers out again. He went still as Bane chuckled softy, slowly lacing his own fingers with them.

“Is that ill advised?”

“It's... pretty fucking brazen.”

Bane glanced up from his hand and over at him, his lips pressed together in amusement for a moment. “But it is not ill advised?”

“We're trying out the exclusive thing, sorta.”

“There is certainly nothing wrong with that, but if you should change your mind...”

“Jesus, are you fucking serious, right now? What about Bars—” he stopped and glanced down, “what about, oh I don't know, your PUP?”

“My pup would benefit. I doubt you would mind my attentions on him if you were receiving them, as well.”

Blake felt his defenses rising up suddenly at that, and he jerked his hand away. “So you just want me so you can get to fuck Barsad again?”

Bane was suddenly reaching over to touch his shoulder lightly, his steely eyes intense when he shook his head. “Not at all. You misunderstand. I would not use another in such a way. I simply am able to acknowledge that you are handsome, that I enjoy your personality from what I have seen, that you care deeply for my pup, and that alone is enough to make me interested.”

Blake tried to study his eyes, to pick out the exact moment he saw a lie in them so he could lash out, but there was nothing, nothing he could see, anyway. “So, what,” he asked cautiously, “you're looking for a hookup?”

“A 'hookup'? No. I am going to invite you to our home this weekend with Barsad, though.”

“He's already said I could come with if I wanted.”

“This is a personal invitation. I really do hope you will join us.”

“Why me; convenience?”

“You look like one who would enjoy a firm hand, Blake.” His hand went to his knee and he was squeezing it, not roughly, but firmly. It wasn't quite the same sort of gentle handling Barsad was getting. He wasn't exactly treating him like a pup. Blake wasn't sure exactly how he was treating him, to be honest.

“You—I don't mind if you do it with him,” he blurted out and hated himself for it the moment he did it, because he did mind. He knew he would mind, anyway, when he got his wits about him, and he hated that Bane had managed to get him to say it, when he only didn't mind what was going on now because he was right there for it.

“Yes, you would mind a great deal, Blake, but thank you for your effort,” Bane told him, and there was a sense of relief that flooded his chest at that. Bane could have just agreed. He'd be getting what he wanted, and would be able to say that Blake had agreed with it, had outright told him to go ahead and fuck his boyfriend, but instead, he repeated his invitation to dinner that weekend and Blake, a little dumbfounded, said yes.


	14. Chapter 14

Barsad had turned downright dozy as they spent some time just settled down. He played with Bane's fingers, wrapped his own around his thumb and moved it around idly, a content curve to his lips that turned to a slight pout when Bane stroked his cheek and down to his throat, calling him a 'silly pup'. The action made Blake think for a moment as he rubbed his hand over Barsad's knee.

“How come he doesn't have a collar or something? I'd think if anything he'd have that instead of these knee pads.”

Bane seemed surprised by the question, and he was quiet for a moment before answering, “The knee pads are to prevent pain, a collar is... more than a prop. It is a claim. Even though I consider him 'my pup' when we play, he would technically be considered a stray.”

“Whoa, hey,” Blake squeezed Barsad's knee protectively. “Don't call my boyfriend a stray. It sounds terrible.”

“I am not saying it to be cruel,” he soothed through Barsad's hair as he spoke, “I only mean that a collar is a much deeper thing.”

“So why don't you do it? He's good for you, isn't he? What you don't think he's good enough?” He didn't know what he was so upset at the idea. Ok, no, he did. He knew a little too well what it felt like to be a stray.

“I'm not saying that at _all,_ Blake,” Bane assured him, and his voice lowered as he looked down at Barsad. “He is... everything I could hope for in a pup, but it's not just me deciding. I would need approval from Talia, and we would need to know that you accept it, as well.”

“You should do it,” he said quickly. It just didn't feel right. The word 'stray' sat heavy in his mind, and all he could think of was the boys’ home where the cute ones never went, just the broken ones, the ones that needed more love, the strays; Blake. “He should have a collar.”

Bane seemed to realize just how serious he was about the subject, because he didn't laugh or tease, he only nodded after a moment. “I would like to. I will speak to Talia, and to him. We can't just assume that is what he wants.”

“He does,” Blake said without hesitation, but he let that be the end of the conversation that night, even though he could see how Bane's fingertips would brush over Barsad's throat on occasion, almost contemplatively. He glanced at the clock after a while and noticed how late it was getting.

“Were you going to spend the night?”

“I tend to more often than not, now, but if you would like him to yourself, I will head home now.”

Blake hesitated before he shook his head. Barsad had mentioned it was a long drive. It felt rude to kick Bane out when technically he was the one being an interloper here. Wednesday nights were theirs, after all.

“I'll head out,” he said instead, gently shifting Barsad's legs off of him, getting a sleepy grunt of protest. He had been drifting all night, deep in his head space as far as Blake could see, but content and not quite asleep. Bane touched his leg as he started to walk past him on the couch and Blake glanced at him questioningly.

“You are welcome to stay, too. I am sure he would enjoy the extra attention.”

Blake cleared his throat, uncertain. “It's not the biggest bed.”

“He clings. There will be room.”

He snorted softly at that. Barsad did tend to adhere himself to him whenever they spent the night together. It wasn't like he could say a word, though; usually he ended up holding on just as tightly. He thought about it for a few moments, measuring just how awkward it could be to share the bed with Bane. The sad fact of the matter was that he'd probably sleep better with three in the bed than one back in his own no matter how much more room there would be.

“Want help carrying him?”

It turned out to be a tight fit, but not completely unreasonable. Barsad woke up a little upon being moved, squirmed around until he realized that he was going to be absolutely squished between their bodies and that he was going to get to savor every minute of it, then he settled right down, fast enough that Blake snickered softly, earning a reproachful look from Barsad who he apologized quietly to, getting nuzzled into lovingly in return for it. He just had to avoid touching Bane and nothing felt too awkward. Barsad was a barrier between them, and it was clear that Bane was going to respect the distance. He found it easier to relax in his presence like that, found it easier to carefully convince his brain that he was safe even with more than just Barsad there, Barsad whose face was buried against his chest where he huffed happily at his scent before his breathing evened out and soon he was asleep between them. It took Blake a surprisingly short time to follow suit.

 

_____________________

 

Barsad wasn't quite sure what to do that morning when he felt himself sandwiched between them. Oh, he remembered the events of last night and he was honestly a little shocked that Blake had come there, had clearly wanted to see even if he couldn't admit that. Now, though, he was waking to the soft chirps of Blake's phone alarm and Blake's sleepy groan of protest, Bane's steady arm around his waist suddenly tightening to squeeze him closer. When he blinked his eyes open, Blake was looking at him like he was uncertain which side of Barsad he'd be getting. It was understandable.

“Good morning,” he mumbled out sleepily, having to clear his throat to stop from sounding quite so garbled. Blake gave him a quick, closed-mouth kiss before he stretched, almost falling out of the cramped space, Barsad's hand shooting out to grab his hip the only thing having saved him from a sudden drop.

“Morning,” Blake finally whispered out in response as he sat up, rubbed his eyes.

“You came to see me.”

“I... Yeah,” Blake nodded slowly. “I'm sorry, I should have asked first, but I felt like if I had to ask first, I'd never actually do it.”

Barsad wondered a moment if he should perhaps be angry about it, but he wasn't. He felt a sense of relief that Blake had wanted to see, that he didn't seem repulsed with him now, only a little sheepish over what he had seen. He reached his hand to rub his thigh slowly, “you're alright then?”

“Yeah...” Blake trailed off slowly then he turned back to look at him, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I hate to admit it.... but you make a really adorable puppy.”

Barsad felt the slightest bit of heat tipping his ears, but he scratched through his beard and smirked. “Of course I do. I excel at everything I do.”

It got Bane's hand mashed playfully over his face, his belly suddenly subjected to a quick tickle that had him nearly squawking at the suddenness of it. Blake laughed, told him he had to get to work, but they agreed they could talk later, would talk later, about what this meant. That left him with Bane and his own job to get ready for. He whispered a quiet thank you to him for his understanding, his care, and his ability to so well handle a delicate situation, then he raced into the shower to beat him to it.

That weekend, Barsad hated how nervous he felt. It seemed silly. Everything was in the open now, Bane and Blake had already met one another and they had seemed to get along well enough. This was Talia, though. This was taking Blake into her home and some small part of him foolishly worried that somehow Blake would not garner her approval.

He need not have worried. The drive in the truck was much more pleasant with Blake to keep him company, even though Blake was obviously a little uncertain to be going along, had checked more than once to make sure Barsad knew he would not be offended if he would rather Blake stay home.

“I just don't want you to feel like I'm crowding you in.”

“You're not, I promise. Besides, maybe Bane will hit on you some more.”

Blake groaned and Barsad smirked slightly. Just because he didn't register such things while he was in his pup mode did not mean that he forgot them. When he had realized exactly what Bane had been doing, well, he would be lying if he said he did not approve, even beyond for his own reasons.

“He thinks I need 'a firm hand',” Blake said, barely keeping an eye roll in check.

“Lucky for you, he has two of them, but truth be told, he is a softy, always giving in to my pup side.”

“How could he not? I saw how those blue eyes looked when you were in full out pout mode.”

Barsad laughed quietly at that and rolled his shoulders as they pulled up to the house. “It is not my fault that I am so charming.”

“A charming asshole,” Blake confirmed, almost chipper sounding. It was a sign of just how nervous he was as he played with his fingernails and his eyes locked onto the house.

“It's just dinner.” Barsad patted over his hands lightly. “Talia will adore you,” he assured him. He wouldn't let his own nervousness add to Blake's.

“Her lover wants to fuck me,” Blake countered.

“And from what I have gathered, she would enjoy watching that.”

Blake blinked then he dropped his head back onto the driver to laugh. “Alright, alright, ‘cause that doesn't make it weirder.”

“I never said that it would not be weird. I only said that she would adore you.”

He was right, much to Blake's surprise along with the near embarrassed ducking of his head when Talia kissed his cheek and commented on just how handsome she thought he was, how she was happy to finally meet him. She was a gracious host, as she always was when Barsad came to visit, even teasing Blake that he should spend the night as Barsad often did.

“I moved some of the condoms and lubricant into the guestroom drawer,” she happily informed him, and it was clear she was doing it purely for the mortified look from Blake, how his eyes widened, and then he shook his head, one of his rare smiles peeking out.

“Maybe we'll use them,” he challenged a little, voice slightly cautious.

“I would be offended if you did not,” she answered back, almost sweetly, kissing his cheek again before she touched Barsad's arm, insisting that she wanted his hands in the kitchen, leaving Bane and Blake in the living room to talk.

“Trying to get them together so quickly?” he could not help but ask as he helped her by dicing up some peppers carefully. His eyes kept flicking over to the living room where he could hear the quiet murmur of conversation.

“It would benefit everyone, would it not?” she countered as she opened the oven, peering at the contents inside.

“It would, but I would never want it to be done if it was merely for convenience,” he said more quietly, but able to hear the protectiveness in his tone for Blake. He would never let him just be used.

Talia slid the oven mitts from her hands and a small smile graced her lips as she touched his arm. “Never. That would benefit no one, in the long run. Is it so hard to believe that Bane saw something he liked in him? He saw it in you just as quickly, and like tends to attract like... though it is sweet that you are so protective of him.”


	15. Chapter 15

They let that be the end of the conversation for the moment and turned to other things, to work. Talia and Bane's income came mostly through running their website and helping others run theirs, through the sale of advertising and subscriptions or even products linked to their site, occasionally doing shows of other genres that still held their interest for other sites. It was far more entertaining to listen to her talk about how Bane had turned down being invited to partake in an orgy video than speaking of his own job, especially now that Blake had graduated from his class, though he still met with him often on the range to practice, his shot only getting better each time with Barsad's careful teaching.

It only took a few quiet bites of food for the conversation at the dinner table to turn just as lively. Barsad knew that Blake coached some ball down at a boys’ home that he grew up in and volunteered at, but he had no idea that Bane had a curiosity about the game even though he had never played much of it.

“I'll bring a ball next time, teach you some things.” Blake sounded eager, and Barsad had to smile at the quick assumption that there would be a next time, that Blake seemed excited to be able to teach. He hadn't known much about that side of him, and was happy to see it brought out as it was now.

That evening, they tumbled into the guest bed together, and Barsad smiled at how Blake's cheeks were ever so slightly flushed from Talia's farewell, her telling them that they should most certainly enjoy themselves and that the walls in the house were thick for a reason.

“It would be a shame to turn down her hospitality,” Barsad teased as he savored Blake's warmed skin against his lips, laying a trail of kisses across his jawline.

Blake snorted. “Well I wouldn't want to be rude.” His arms draped lazily over his shoulders as Barsad climbed over him. “I do want to get invited back, after all.”

Barsad smiled at how Blake’s breathing changed when his lips went to his earlobe, catching it between his lips and tugging it slightly with his teeth. It had not taken long at all to figure out that those ears were sensitive and quite a temptation when they stuck out as they did. He puffed his breath out purposefully, leaving a damp trail to Blake's throat as his hands rubbed down his chest, catching his shirt and tugging it up and playfully dragging his blunt nails across the bare skin of his belly before he drew back. “Let me clean up, then, and we'll make sure we respect our host's wishes.”

“You're clean enough,” Blake argued, making a sound of protest when Barsad climbed off of him, nearly pouting when he disappeared into the bathroom.

“You'll be happy enough for me after I shower,” Barsad tossed back as he shut the bathroom door, ignoring whatever Blake decided to mutter as he flopped his arms back onto the bed in a mock pout. He would not have been pouting if he had noticed at all that when Barsad had taken a towel from the drawer, he had also slipped the bottle of lubrication there into his pocket.

He scrubbed clean in the shower and spent a few minutes there with the water off, dripping as he held the bottle in his hand. Blake had walked him through the steps of preparing himself for Barsad, he'd enjoyed watching his head toss back in pleasure as he stretched him open, and it was not as though he had not thoroughly enjoyed himself in his pup mode with Bane, recalling well the sparks of pleasure from Bane's thick fingers that had gone straight to his head.

It wasn't quite like that when he worked up the nerve to slick up his fingers, to brace his other hand against the shower wall and take a deep breath, reaching between his thighs and rubbing there. It was a little weird, but he had expected that, breathed out calmly as he worked up the nerve to push a finger into himself slowly. It felt somewhat good, though he was sure his uncertainty was keeping himself from enjoying as much as he would have if Blake was the one doing it, but he did wish to surprise him, after all. Two fingers and he managed to skate over his prostate, the slight twinge of uncertain pleasure making his head tip forward to rest on the wet tile.

His breathing changed after that, as he curiously worked to find that spot again, managing, and chuckling at himself at the sharp pant that pushed past his lips, the quick rush that made his stomach clench up. He would save that for Blake, avoiding touching it again as he spread his fingers slowly, probably adding far more lube than was really needed, feeling its slickness as he left the shower and washed his hands, toweled off, but he felt it better to be overly prudent than not have enough. He wasn't exactly sure if more would be needed because of his inexperience. Perhaps he was more nervous than he cared to admit.

He laughed when Blake was already undressed, when he could see how he was half-hard in anticipation.

“’Bout time,” he complained with no real annoyance to his tone. “I found the condoms,” he admitted as he sat back up on the bed, gesturing to a foil packet beside him. “I was going to ride you, but I can't find the lube anywhere and there is no way I was going to go wake Talia and ask her where she kept it, so that will have to wait until we're back home.”

“I suppose it will,” Barsad told him casually as he tossed the bottle onto the bed, sliding back into it with him as he lay out on his back. Blake's eyes caught on the bottle and he looked confused for a moment, arching his brow. Barsad shook his head, refusing to let his nerves show as he took hold of Blake's shoulders, tugging him so his body overshadowed his and demanding a kiss.

It seemed to dawn on Blake slowly as their lips parted. “Wait, did you...”

Barsad laughed quietly and took his hand, kissing over his knuckles and guiding it down his body in response. Blake let his fingers trail past Barsad's cock, the seam of his thigh, his breath caught when they slipped wetly between his cheeks. “Oh _fuck_ , Barsad, really?” He finally realized Barsad's intentions and he dipped down to kiss him again eagerly. “You're sure?” he managed to get out between kisses, and Barsad laughed, biting at his lip.

“I would most certainly not have been fingering myself in the bathroom if I wasn't sure.”

Blake groaned and pressed the pads of his fingers there slowly, making Barsad's eyes lid more in response, his breathing quicken. Yes, it was much nicer when Blake was touching there than himself, and Blake could see his reactions, groaned at them slightly. “Oh fuck, you're all wet for me already; do you have any idea how hot that is?”

“Maybe you should tell me,” he whispered, nosing behind Blake's ear to latch onto the hollow there, sucking wetly for a moment, loving how it made a breathless noise escape him. “Or perhaps you should just show me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll show you,” Blake answered back playfully, picking up the foil packet and resting it on Barsad's belly for a moment. “Don't you move,” he threatened.

“Or what?” he squirmed under him purposefully, grunting when Blake dipped his head down and he felt the sharp, stinging bite to his thigh.

“Or I'll bite,” was muttered out, his skin still caught between his teeth before he pulled back, leaving a deep pink mark and neat lines of tooth impressions. Barsad hissed out in response to it, to the dark look that Blake gave him as he looked up from between his thighs.

“Not moving,” Barsad mumbled out in response. He would get his payback for this later, but for now he would enjoy how Blake's cheeks hollowed as he worked to suck a bright bruise against his hip bone, how his hand stroked up his cock and the pleasure from the slow drag of it coursed through his body when his hand wrapped around him, when his lips followed suit, sucking luridly. When his hips shifted up, he saw the wicked glint in Blake's eyes and he narrowed his own.

“Do not even _think_ about it,” he hissed out when he remembered Blake's threat.

Blake laughed sharply and kissed the tip of his cock head. “Nah, I like you trusting me to put my mouth all over this.”

“I like that, too,” he sighed at Blake's lips rubbing against him, the shudder that ran through him as he popped him back into his mouth and worked him up quickly, enough that he was twitching, tugging at Blake's hair with a gasp.

Blake slid him from his mouth and licked slowly over his lips. “Just wanted to make sure you were ready,” he teased as he squeezed his hip, finally settled between his thighs and ripped open the foil packet. Rolling the condom over himself, he took the lube, slicking himself up to ease the way. Barsad appreciated the thought, took a slow breath and settled more.

Blake felt wide when he pressed up against his hole, different than fingers, obviously, and he grunted at the warmth, at how Blake slid against him slowly. The slick feeling of his cock running against his sensitive nerves had him wrapping his arms around him tightly, digging his nails into his back.

“Didn't lube up just for you to tease me, put it _in_ ,” he growled out against Blake's cheek, and he grinned a little at the laugh it got. His lips quickly pursed into a softer ‘o’ shape as Blake guided himself in with a hand around his cock, stretching him open gently with slow pushes of his hips and soft whispers of how tight he felt as he sank into him.

It was good; it took more than a moment to wrap his head around the idea that Blake was inside of him, that he was full of him when their thighs pressed flush together, when Blake's head dropped down and he shuddered at the feeling. Barsad could feel every little shift of his hips as he settled, as his body adjusted.

The first slow pull out was frustrating, and it drew a ragged pant with it. He was not sure he liked it at all until Blake was rolling his hips forward, sliding into him again. The sudden slide made his brows knit together, made an embarrassingly high whine slip from his lips.

“You like that,” Blake whispered, his voice rough and pleased as he began to rock his hips, slowly at first, far too slowly for Barsad to be able to enjoy all of the strange feelings thrumming through him. He planted his feet flat on the bed and pushed up roughly to meet him, shouting out hoarsely at the pleasure of the sudden quick slam in.

“You just had to say you wanted it harder,” Blake teased against his lips, and Barsad bit at them indignantly, but then Blake was fucking into him, rough, slick, and he could no longer think of something to bite out in response. That constant slide of his cock, how full he felt, it was making it so that he couldn't control his breathing and it felt _wonderful_.

The bed creaked under them as they worked into a hard rhythm, one that had Barsad arching under Blake, each push still too strange to adapt to. When Blake held his hips and coaxed him into changing the angle of the push, Barsad swore at the lightning sensation of his cock suddenly working against his prostate.  Blake worked hard over him, his own heavy pants reaching Barsad's ears as sweat shone on his chest, as he twisted his hips and tried to slide against his nerves each time, to send deep throbs of sensation into his core.

When Barsad wrapped his hand around his neglected cock, Blake's hand joined him, slick from sweat, from the lubrication he'd rubbed onto his own cock. Barsad could only take so much more, the heated sensation of their fingers laced and sweeping up his shaft was too much. He could see Blake's lips moving, encouraging him to come, but he could hear nothing except the thundering sound of blood rushing past his ears as he bit roughly into his bottom lip, the sharp tang of copper and the pain only making his orgasm feel more electric as his come painted his chest.

Blake's hips stilled and he seemed unsure if he should keep going even though Barsad could see how his body was straining with the effort to hold back. He gripped his hair and pulled him down, felt the sweat and come slicked against their bodies and didn't care as he encouraged him to keep going with a soft whisper, rubbing down his back slowly. He bit back a soft hiss, his body feeling oversensitive with each stroke inside of him, but Blake was making the most lovely sounds, grateful moans against his throat. The few moments of discomfort were a small price to pay when he felt Blake shivering against him, the muscles in his back tightening as his own orgasm rushed through him.

“I suppose it was ok,” Barsad mumbled playfully against Blake's ear after they cleaned up and burrowed under the blankets together. His lips twitched at the shove to his shoulder.

“Way better than ok; you fucking loved it.” Blake sounded smug, and Blake so rarely sounded truly smug that he had to only smile and let it go, kiss him once more before wishing him a goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last one guys. <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! Guys I had miscounted and the NEXT chapter is the last one. Sorry for the confusion!

The next morning, he was greeted with sleepy grumbles as he shook his shoulder. It was nice to be able to wake up next to Blake without him having to rush back to work. He climbed over him and settled on his back, chuckling at the low grunt as he brutally rubbed his beard between his shoulder blades.

“Fuck off,” Blake whined out irritably, trying to squirm under him tiredly until he kissed over the beard burn he left behind. “Nmph, better. I never get to sleep in, and the one day I do, you attack me,” was muttered sleepily as Blake dragged another pillow over and buried his face in it. It drew a laugh from Barsad and an apologetic kiss to his cheek.

“I was only wondering if you would be offended if—”

“Have fun.” Blake squirmed, sounding half asleep again already.  “Just don't you dare wake me up.”

Barsad kissed his cheek. “I have no guarantees of that,” he warned before he tugged up the spare blanket and went into the bathroom to curl up in it.

 

_____________________

 

Blake groaned at the wet lick behind his ear. He should have known. He supposed that he should have been flattered that Barsad in his pup head space thought he was too interesting to just pass up and go find Bane, but mostly he was enjoying how comfortable the bed was and the last dregs of sleep that he had been clinging to.

That was given up as a loss when he jerked at the ticklish feeling of Barsad snorting into his side, nuzzling playfully. His blue eyes glinted with mischief and approval when Blake rolled over finally and sat up.

“Ok, ok, you win. This is for threatening to bite you last night, isn't it?” he muttered out but rubbed through Barsad's hair, patting down his back. “Where’s Bane? Why don't you go find Bane?”

Barsad clearly lit up at the idea; the only problem was that it was just as clear that he had no intention of going off to find Bane alone. Again, flattered, really, but he couldn't help but groan as he stretched out and gave in, slipping on a pair of pants before he stumbled out of the bedroom with Barsad happily bursting out past the door and down the hall, pushing another door open easily, which Blake suspected had been left open for him, and scampering inside.

There was the sound of cheerful yipping, then low laughter and soft good mornings. Blake stood in the hall for a moment, not sure if he should really be going inside. Barsad scurrying into their bedroom in the morning was one thing—

“Blake?” Talia's softer voice called out into the hall, interrupting his thoughts. “Come to join us?”

It had to be strange, it had to be crazy, to be pulled into their bed, to have Barsad half climbing onto him and huffing happily, and it was way too early for this kind of crazy, and he was kind of wondering if either of them even had clothes on under the blankets. It turned out they did, but not much, not enough. It was a pretty damn big distraction that he was the most clothed person in the bed, especially when he somehow wound up in the middle, Barsad nuzzled against his chest while Bane scratched through his hair fondly.

“He likes finishing up his sleep in here,” Talia explained, and Blake tried not to notice that he could feel the curve of her breasts when she pressed up to his back. It wasn't often he had a thing for women, but on occasion there were some he just found more enticing than others. Usually, it was the ones that he had a feeling could break him apart if they wanted to. He didn't like to think about what that said about him.

“He had to drag me into it, I guess.” He tried to sound put out, but that was hard with an armful of squirming, content Barsad and soon he was relaxing again, letting himself drop back down for more rest. Snug between all of them, he had to admit he slept even better than usual, despite the strangeness of the situation. When he woke again, Barsad was on his back, happy to be getting a belly rub from Talia who looked over at him.

“Did you have an enjoyable evening?”

“I'm pretty sure you can figure that one out,” he told her as he sat up slowly. He stilled when Bane's hand slowly ran down his bare back, the sudden unexpected caress sending his skin prickling. His eyes flicked towards Bane's pale gray ones, accusingly, briefly annoyed when there wasn't a trace of guile in Bane's, just a slight smile.

It was especially damning when he leaned in closer and kissed his shoulder, just a light warm press that made him almost shiver.

“Hey now, boyfriend right there,” he felt the need to point out, just in case. He had to laugh a little ruefully when Talia glanced up from petting said 'boyfriend's' belly. The entire situation was ridiculous really. She seemed to easily guess his thoughts and smiled slightly.

“Would he mind?”

“Probably not. Don't think I didn't know you guys were talking in the kitchen, but… I want to wait.”

“There's nothing wrong with simply enjoying this weekend for what it is,” Bane agreed easily enough. They spent most of the morning in bed then had a late breakfast, some fun and games for Barsad before Bane carefully coaxed him out of his head space. Blake was immediately dragged close for a kiss, a quiet thank you for indulging him.

“Only seems fair if you're letting me tag along for your weekend,” Blake answered after he returned the kiss. “Besides, I think I'm kind of getting used to it.” The small, surprised smile on Barsad's face was more than worth any sort of awkwardness that morning.

 

Blake fiddled with the radio buttons on the way home. Barsad's truck was older enough to not have anything more than that and an old cassette player. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but it has been turned down once, and Blake had had enough rejection in his life. Maybe it hadn't been a real rejection, though. Maybe Barsad had just not been able to tell him why he was turning him down, because in Blake's life 'I'll think about it' had always been a 100% no.

He pulled his hand away from the buttons finally when he realized he'd just been idly flipping back and forth between two stations and he was probably driving Barsad insane even if he wasn't saying it just yet. He studied his fingers, instead, glancing over at Barsad whose eyes were locked onto the road steadily.

“I know we talked about it a little bit before,” Blake forced out finally, “but it was never really brought up again.”

“What's that?” Barsad asked lightly. He spared Blake a brief curious glance.

“Moving in together.”

Barsad's fingers gripped at the steering wheel as he shifted in his seat, the topic clearly catching him off guard. “You know why I said no before now, right?” he asked, sounding almost worried, and it made Blake relax a little, because he did.

“Yeah, but, that's out in the open, now, right? I could make myself scarce on Wednesdays if you don't want me around for it.”

“Perhaps sometimes you could stay, though,” Barsad said quickly.

When Blake raised his eyebrows in surprise he rolled his shoulders, answering quietly, “I like you like that, too.”

“Puppy likes me?” Blake couldn't help but ask playfully, laughing when he could see the tinge of red on Barsad's ears. “That's cute.”

“I shouldn't have told you,” Barsad lamented quietly and Blake patted his leg.

“No, really, it's cute. I uhm, I kind of like him, too. Don't get me wrong, I much prefer you on two legs and not trying to yip in my ear... but I like how content you are like that, relaxed.”

Barsad thought about it for a moment before he nodded slowly. “My apartment.”

“What?”

“I would prefer if you moved into my apartment. It will be less confusing.”

Blake sucked in a surprised breath and nodded his head quickly in agreement. “We can do your apartment.”

“And if you punch one hole in my wall you will be the one refunding me my security deposit.”

“I've been thinking about getting a punching bag,” Blake admitted with a sheepish look.

 

_____________________

 

“You really didn't have to help, Bane, it's actually a depressingly small number of boxes to move,” Blake pointed out, carrying in a boxful of clothing, “and your way-too-big arms can carry even more boxes at a time, which just makes it all the more obvious.”

Barsad laughed and took the box out of his hands. “He's going to help set up the punching bag for you later,” he told him as he kissed his cheek. They'd found a used one for practically free online as long as they were willing to come pick it up themselves.

“Oh, I'm keeping my mouth shut,” Blake amended, and Bane only shook his head in amusement, catching up his elbow and backing him into the counter.

“Perhaps I am offended; 'too big arms'?” he teased quietly, said arms slowly bracketing Blake in on either side, bracing against the counter.

“Too big,” Blake said smugly, and he curled his lip in a mock challenge when Bane's hands went to his hair, tugging roughly and forcing his head back.

“Such a handful,” Bane murmured as he dipped down to kiss his parted lips. Barsad shook his head at their antics, glancing over to share an amused look with Talia as she helped to unpack a box. It had been agreed that while they were not going to consider themselves an open relationship anymore, that Bane, and if they were being honest, perhaps even one day Talia, might just fit into both of their lives just fine. This was far from the first playful kiss the pair had shared, or the first time that Blake had goaded Bane into manhandling it out of him.

“We need to finish, or Barsad will get no time to unwind tonight,” Talia scolded them mildly.

“It's alright, I had plenty this weekend,” he assured. He had. They had decided to work to keep him in his pup space over the entire weekend, the three of them spoiling him rotten, and it had been like a vacation for him. He didn't feel quite as much the urge to let go tonight, and felt like if needed it could even be missed.

Bane shook his head though, giving Blake a final kiss while the other man squeezed his 'too big' arm. “We wouldn't want that. I have something special for you, if you'd like it.”

That piqued his curiosity, but Bane refused to speak any more about it until they had finished moving boxes, finished carefully wrestling Blake's beat up old dresser into the bedroom and managing to cram it in beside Barsad’s. Beyond that, it wasn't hard to unpack, and in another couple hours they were mostly done, sharing a quick dinner of sandwiches that Bane had put together for them while Talia helped them figure out how to arrange the smaller items Blake had brought with him.


	17. Chapter 17

Finally, they were sitting on and around the small couch and it felt nice, cozy. Talia had not been to his—their—apartment before, and he could admit that even knowing moving would be chaos he had rushed to make it as clean as possible for her arrival. Now she sat perched on Bane's lap, her feet propped up on the coffee table as Bane lightly stroked across her neck.

“You could come along more often, if you would like,” Barsad offered quietly.

“I would not want to impose,” Talia said as she traced of Bane's fingers, “but perhaps I will stop in on occasion. I enjoy seeing you, as well. Perhaps one day we could play, too.” The way her tone turned teasing left no doubt in his mind what sort of play she meant, and the thought sent a slow shiver of excitement up his spine. Before all of this had started, he had thought he would be in her care to begin with, after all, and the idea was still thrilling. She turned in Bane's lap to look at him, and the curve of her lips told him that she could easily read his thoughts.

“Yes, I would like to play, some day,” she breathed out softly as Bane rubbed her shoulders, “if Blake has no objections.”

“House rules,” Blake shrugged, pretending not to be affected when Barsad knew it to be quite a lie by the way his eyes traveled slowly down Talia's body.  'House rules' had become the playful way to describe the terms they had all come to agree with to spare each of them grief. Bane could play, he could touch, but if it was done with sexual intent, then both of them had to be there for it. It had worked out, so far. It had meant that nothing was hidden, there was no questioning of what was being done while the other was away, and if something was making one of them uncomfortable, it was stopped, no questions asked.

Barsad was also fairly sure that Blake just enjoyed watching. After the house rules were established, he certainly seemed to be quietly encouraging Bane to enjoy Barsad. It had worked. Barsad could still remember the happy, hazy feeling of being wrestled playfully down to his hands and knees. He had been so happy to submit to Bane with the playful bite to the back of his neck; the sweetly whispered out 'good boy' had had him near glowing with pride. He was always happy to submit when it was so clear he was safe and loved, which was something he never doubted in his head space when Bane was close, when Blake was petting him, when Talia was praising him.

It had felt confusing to be opened up again. He liked it, he liked submitting to Bane but he always squirmed and yipped for it until confusion was replaced with heady pleasure coursing through him, with his brain happy to accept that he was going to be rutted by Bane and that that was his proper place, giving himself to Bane. He had panted out, hands clenched up into fists as Bane pressed into him slowly, worked into him and covered his hands with his own. He had laced their fingers together and thrust into him until Barsad was whining out happily, coming all over the floor as Blake patted his head, his own voice thick with arousal when he told him he was a good boy.

Barsad had been sure to tease him over how much he enjoyed the show, later. Blake had snorted and reddened, told him not to act like he wouldn't like watching him with Bane just as much. He had found he had little rebuttal for that.

“You would want to watch, then, Blake?” Talia asked, and John looked near caught until he was nodding slowly, knowing that with them he really had nothing to be embarrassed over.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Another time, perhaps,” she said thoughtfully, and Bane rubbed her side before she slid from his lap. “For now, I think I would like to watch you.”

Barsad laughed lightly at how Blake was suddenly pinned under Bane. He made a noise of surprise at the sudden turn of events, but with a few careful touches from Bane, he squirmed under him, trying to get their hips together so their cocks would grind. Bane pinned his hips down to the couch, instead, and dipped down to kiss him again, clearly savoring the quick puff of air brushing across his lips, the way Blake's tongue curled out eagerly to meet his.

“Fuck,” Blake muttered, “this is a bad idea. What about Barsad's pup time?”

“There will be time after. Do you really wish to stop?” Bane bit sharply at his throat, drawing a shudder from his smaller frame.

“N-No, come on,” he urged, pulling at his shoulders. Bane caught up his chin for another kiss, pleased to not have to give up the prize under him.

“Shall I take you in front of them both? Would you enjoy being on display for them?”

Blake arched under him then glanced at Talia as she perched herself on the edge of the coffee table to watch them. Barsad bent over the end of the couch to give him a playful upside down kiss.

“House rules,” he reminded him happily and Blake snorted, seeming almost embarrassed, knowing he would be the center of attention this time, but he reached up for him and kissed him again.

“I guess it's only fair, huh,” he muttered, clearly meaning Talia observing them, as well. Bane looked pleased. He tugged roughly at the hem of Blake's jeans before he worked on the zipper, peeled down the worn denim without hesitation.

“Fuck, manhandle me, why don't you?”

“You generally seem to like it,” Bane told him playfully. He brought Blake's legs up, hooking them over his shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah.” Blake's lips twitched a little and he tried to reach for Bane's pants even from that angle, failing and making a frustrated noise. Bane's hands cupped his ass, gripping tightly enough to make Blake shiver and squirm under him ineffectively.

Barsad decided to do them a favor and went to go get the lubricant and condoms out of the bedroom drawer.

He could hear the low moans even as he rummaged around for them. When he came back, Blake had been stripped down bare on the couch and was reaching for him. He dropped to kneel at the edge of the couch, was pulled into another heated upside down kiss as Bane took the supplies from him.

“You want him to fuck you?” Barsad teased, letting his nails scratch across Blake's chest, getting a grunt as he squirmed under Bane more.

“You seem to like it plenty,” Blake shot back, and then his mouth dropped open, his throat bared and flushed as Bane pressed a finger into him. Blake usually liked to do it himself when he was with Barsad, or he liked to guide Barsad's fingers into him at his own pace. Here, he had no control over it, his hips rocked and Bane soothed down the shaking muscle in his thigh as he kept his legs over his shoulders, still.

“You gonna put another in or just stay like that all day?” Blake finally mumbled out when Bane stroked into him with a single finger. His breath panted out when Bane chuckled, hooked his finger and pulled slowly, letting it drag against his nerves inside.

“I could,” he said almost contemplatively. “You are not the first overeager bottom that I have undone with just that.”

“O-Overeager bottom?” Blake nearly gaped. “I am a f-fucking SWITCH damn—” He broke off mid-curse when Bane twisted his finger in him, making his body try to clamp down. He was only given the teasing stroke of a second finger along his hole, firm enough that it had him gulping down a breath of air as he whined, “C-Come on.”

“What do you think?” Bane asked softly, and Talia laughed quietly behind them.

"Let me see them kiss more." She sounded relaxed as she rested her palms back onto the coffee table, as though there was no hurry in the world for her. That was bad news for Blake, to be certain, but she received the fondest of looks from Bane for it.

Blake didn't snap out at that, though it looked as if he was biting his tongue only because it was Talia. If it was Bane or himself, Barsad was certain they would be getting an earful.

Instead, Blake reached for his shirt, grabbing up handfuls of it and doing his best to haul him down closer from the awkward angle. Barsad didn't laugh for his sake, but it was a near thing, a soft breath that ran over Blake's lips as he flicked his tongue over them. Their noses bumped, but he managed to tilt his head, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling until it had to be tender before Blake was groaning out suddenly.

"I didn't say to give him the next," Talia teased, and Barsad laughed, watched how Blake's eyes were lidded until Bane apologized, then they widened in disbelief when he was back down to one finger.

"No, no, come on, give it back, that's not fucking _fair_!"

"Fair?" Bane said the word like it truly tickled him to even think about and Blake mumbled out a curse.

By the time he was finally allowed two, then three, then Bane's fingers spreading him open slowly, stretching his hole, Barsad had been instructed to pin his hands above his head. He did so happily, lacing their fingers once more and enjoying how each time Bane managed to hit something pleasurable inside of Blake, those fingers tightened around his own. The muscles of his stomach were trembling, dipping down in time with his fingers squeezing and the soft noises of want that were being coaxed from him.

"I told you that you need a firm hand," Bane's wrist deftly twisted, "and now look where it has gotten you, so wet and open for me."

Blake whimpered and was kissing him again, messy and biting, anything to distract from how Bane was playing with his body, how badly he wanted more and was being tormented in return. The brown in his eyes was being swallowed up by his dilated pupils, and he was on his way to looking completely blown away.

“B-Bane, come on, please.” His breath sucked in quickly when Bane slid his hand from him, the sound of the foil packet opening enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut tightly in relief. “Fuck, thank you.”

“So grateful,” Bane's face was darker as he worked a condom onto his cock, the thick length poking out from his sweats. He guided it down to the cleft of Blake's ass, a low growl rumbling out of his chest at how Blake squirmed for it. “Eyes on me.”

Blake's eyes blinked open slowly, dazed and needy. When Bane finally pushed into him, the grip on Barsad's hands was like a vise, his shoulders tightened, and he cried out, kept his eyes on Bane as he was given no time to adjust, no time to settle as Bane began to fuck into him roughly.

“Too much?” It was asked quietly as he held onto his thighs, shifting his angle so he could bend over him more, crush him down onto the couch with his weight. Blake wriggled, tugging at his arms even as Barsad trapped him. He couldn't move now, not more than an inch, only the smallest squirms managed as he cried out, shook his head, swore that he would kill Bane if he stopped.

It earned a low, rich laugh and a snap of Bane's hips, enough to force Blake forward on the couch cushions, forcing the air from Blake's lungs along with a near wheeze, a low mutter to do it again. Bane was more than happy to grant the desire, fucking into Blake roughly until his whole body tightened under him, until he was fighting greedily to reach his own orgasm, swearing as Bane reached down and took his cock in his hand, pumping the come from him as it landed in warm splashes across his belly, his throat, a rope of it hitting his chin.

“S-Stop.” Blake closed his eyes tightly after, the shock of Bane thrusting into him too much to handle. Barsad let go of his hands, feeling how they were shaking before he touched Bane's arms. “Too much.”

Bane's own breath was coming out as a low pant, and he lowered Blake's legs, one hooking over the top of the couch, the other dangling so his toes touched the floor as Bane stilled his hips, kissing his forehead almost tenderly for all of the brutal fucking he had been giving him.

“Out, or wait a moment?”

“Just, just give me a second,” Blake panted out, arms scrambling up to wrap around Bane now that he could, fingers digging into his back, “unless you want to go now, then out.”

“You are worth enduring a bit of wait, Blake,” Bane told him quietly as he drew kisses from him, coaxed him into sliding their tongues together until Blake could take a slowed down version of Bane rocking into him, his toes curling into the couch cushions when Bane growled low against his ear, something whispered into it making Blake clench up again. Bane's hips shoved forward at the sudden constriction around his cock, and he came with his fingers sinking bruises into Blake's hips, their teeth clicking together and the slickness of lips sliding along one another.

Blake groaned when Talia neatly applauded. Barsad laughed and went to go get them some towels. His own cock was straining his pants, but he was content to ignore it for now, wondering if perhaps Bane would want to play later. Blake dressed shakily after a quick clean up and flopped back onto the couch, looking content to stay there.

Bane's hand went to Barsad's elbow, guiding him into his lap where he settled in easily, more used to being there as a pup, but not entirely unfamiliar with it out of his head space. “I still have something for you,” Bane told him as he ran his hand over his thigh.

Barsad quirked his eyebrow and glanced to Talia, seeing if she would give a hint, but she only smiled. “You have something for me?” he asked finally. “Does it squeak?”

Bane patted his side. “No, but it jingles.”

When Barsad's eyes narrowed in confusion, Talia smiled more. “We have talked, made certain that everyone was in agreement before it was offered.”

“That is not to say that you cannot say no,” Bane quietly assured him as he pulled something from his pocket that caught in the fading light of the sunset catching through the open windows.

 

Dog tags.

 

He knew what the ones that hung around Bane's neck meant. They had told him long ago that they were not the ones he had been given during his time in combat. Those, Bane had hung up long ago, like Barsad, and now the ones around his neck were a new sort of ownership, just like the ones that were being held out for Barsad now.

He felt a rush of mixed emotion nearly overwhelm his senses at all this meant. They had talked about this before talking to him, even with Blake, obviously, who sat there watching, looking tired but pleased for him. Obviously, he knew what it meant, that it was a serious thing, and Blake wanted him to have it.

Barsad was glad, because he wanted desperately to have it, too.

He reached for them and felt the light chain coil up in the palm of his hands. His name was neatly stamped out with Bane's name under it, denoting ownership, just like he had seen with the ones Talia had put on Bane. They were perfect, and he let them drop into Bane's hand.

“Put them on me?”

“Of course.” Bane took the tags and pressed them against his lips briefly before he slid them over Barsad's head, the weight against his chest so light and so heavy at the same time.

“Not a stray, anymore,” Blake sounded satisfied as he exerted some effort to crawl up close to him and curl against his side, kissing his neck.

“Neither are you,” Barsad whispered back against the shell of his ear, not for anyone's ears but Blake's, and he got a firm squeeze to his hand for it, something that they did not need words to understand.

It was agreed that Talia and Bane would spend the night. Their beds pushed together would provide enough room if they were willing to squeeze in, and it meant that Barsad would be able to be tucked in happily between them all. When he went into his head space, it felt especially exuberant, even though he could not understand completely why, why the slight jangle of those chains against his throat made everything ever so much better, made him lick excitedly at Bane's cheek at bedtime until Bane had to laugh and gently push him down onto the pillows. He just knew that everything was good and right, all of his favorite people were right there with him where they belonged, and that he was a very content puppy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://relevantlyirreverent.tumblr.com/


End file.
